#nothing better than fluff to kill your anxiety

[caramelkoo]

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?” 

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

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“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice 

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

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Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 

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The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.” 

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-” 

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 

“Excuse me.” 

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?” 

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 

“You fucking bitch.” 

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 

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At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 

Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 

Thump thump thump. 

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 

And he does. For now. 

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 

Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 

“Come here.” 

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 

The feeling is very much mutual. 

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 

“Please.” she begs. 

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers. 

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“As sure as one can be.” 

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 

She cries out. 

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate. 

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 

“What?” 

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes” 

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 

[cumironi]

TILL FOREVER FALLS APART

when you first joined jujutsu high, you probably never imagined being in relationships with two of the strongest special grade sorcerers. yet here you are, destined to spend the rest of your life with them. did you complain about it? absolutely not. this is simply the story of your life being in relationships with geto suguru and gojo satoru.

warning : age-up! satosugu, spoiled! fem reader, fluff, heavy / light angst, dark content, trauma mentioned, unprotected sex, threesome, overstimulated, suggestive, oral sex ( m & f receiving ), dirty talk, degrading, name-calling, pet names, poly relationship, anxiety, lots more.

[☆] : NSFW | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

🖇️ YOU WILL BE BLOCKED! IF YOU'RE SPAMMING LIKE WITHOUT REBLOGGING!

☆ PRE RELATIONSHIP :

GENTLE LOVE

“loving you is the easiest thing,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and comforting, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for you.

COLD ICE POPSICLE! ( ☆ )

satoru gojo, suguru geto, you and your friends sit in the back of the school building, smoking and talking, joint in hands. it was summer and heat waves swimming around freely, you eating some ice cream, licking and slurping while your eyes focus on your two friends, who knows that might not be the only thing you lick that day.

YOU WILL GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THE WORLDS BIGGEST IDIOT

the first time you meet your senior, and you think they are the weirdest and most idiots person you've ever met, especially that special-albino looking kid, gojo satoru.

FALL APART? NAH, JUST MENTAL BREAKDOWN

gojo found you training in the middle of the night only for you to have a mental breakdown in front of him. so he brings you to geto's dorm room to calm you down, also for gojo to find behind geto's action on why he is so gentle with you.

☆ IN RELATIONSHIPS :

THE ONE WITH TWINS BOYFRIENDS

dating gojo and geto is always fun and games, but you know what's the most fun thing you could do with having two boyfriends? dressing them up like twins.

STARS AROUND SCARS

you were just trying to draw some stars on your boyfriend, not knowing simple things could be so hard when you have two needy boyfriends.

ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID NEVER THE BRIDE (01) , (02) , (02.1)

the downfall of your relationship after suguru's moral compass went south.

THE ONE WITH THE PRANK

living with you is all fun and games. . . until you start pulling all of these harmless pranks on them.

CAN YOU HANDLE IT, BABY? ( ☆ )

you are sitting there in the living room, drowning under the tongue-tied make-out sessions before your other boyfriends walk in, happily watching the two of you while touching himself.

GOOD GIRL GO TO HEAVEN ( ☆ )

after a long day of assembling a lot of furniture and decorating your new house, they decided they want to test drive the new bed with you.

HUNTER GOJO

you and your two boyfriends just moved in together and decided to go shopping for some furniture and other stuff, and gojo satoru? he has another purpose: hunting for a perfect bed for sex and humiliated you. [ soon ]

TUTORIAL : HOW TO GET IGNORE BY YOUR GIRLFRIEND BECAUSE YOU'RE PISSING HER OFF WHEN SHE'S ON HER PERIOD BY GOJO SATORU.

you are on your second day of your period. your mood is bad, your stomach is killing you, and your boyfriend? he's an asshole who can't stop teasing you and makes you cry. [soon]

SLIPPING THROUGH MY FINGERS

it's been years since the hidden inventory incident, you and your two boyfriends already graduate and are working for jujutsu. . . but nobody knows your struggling, nobody knows how you're the only one who's stuck in 2006 while everybody moves on, not even your boyfriends, and when they do, it's already too late.

ONE TOO MANY

the first time you have an argument with your two boyfriends is because they've been ignoring you for weeks, so you return the favor.

SHUT UP, STOP IT! ( ☆ )

there is nothing better than make-up sex after you and your two lovely boyfriends, having an argument.

PAIN, SUFFERING AND JESUS

feeling like shit? feeling nauseous? you are having a fever? don't worry, your two amazing boyfriends are ready to take care of you!

HYPOTHETICALLY, UPS?!

you chuckle softly, your eyes twinkling with playful mischief. “hypothetically, you should propose to me properly,” you tease, enjoying the light-heartedness of the moment.

YOU AND YOUR INTRUSIVE THOUGHTS? 100 TIMES NEED A THERAPIST!

you and all of your disturbing intrusive thoughts definitely need a therapist because it scared the shit out of them.

IDIOTS AND SEAWEED

your two boyfriends got too protective over you, so what's better than to give them a little bit of seaweed and salt water?

HELP ME MAN!

you, their little girlfriend, scared the shit out of your boyfriends. they don't know why, how, them, the strongest jujutsu sorcerers in the modern world are scared of their girlfriend.

HIS TIP? IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE MY TIP!

you just got your nails done, and geto is the one who paid for it. so as your way to appreciate his gesture you decided to get your nails color with the same color of his tip, which results in gojo's relentless jealousy.

NOT FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES

do you know what tea could affect your relationship? making you have an argument with your boyfriends because you thought they were overprotective and overbearing.

FIVE AND ONE DIFFERENT WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU

your boyfriends are perfect in every sense, flawless in the ways that matter. they possess every one of the five love languages and master each one effortlessly. whether it’s the tender touch of reassurance, words that lift you higher, gifts that show how much they care, acts of service that make your life smoother, or simply being there when you need them, they never fail to make you feel cherished.

SCARS TO YOUR BEAUTIFUL

all scars and everything, you are still the most beautiful girl to your boyfriends. and they will always remind you, every single day until they leave no room for you to feel insecure.

SUGURUUUU, DO SOMETHING!

you and gojo are insufferable, especially when gojo decides he wants to be annoying and tries to get under your skin. you always come running to geto and telling him to do something about gojo.

( COMING SOON! )

[ TAGLIST ] : OPEN

@junni-berry @fortunatelyfurrygiver @soraya-daydreams @diorzs @dancing--devils @iloveboysinred @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @cupcaketeddybehr @crocodilethesir @lemonnotade

[stylesispunk]

The soldier in the armour | part ii

marcus acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous part | next part

summary: Acacius left for battle while emperor Geta makes his way back to you in a sinister way. After returning, Acacius realizes he is not enough to protect you and you reunite with someone from your past.

wc: 14k???

warning: angst, fluff, age gap, power imbalance, harassment, anxiety, someone bites another person on here, allusions to smut, mentions of poisoning, mentions of blood, reader has a mental breakdown on this one.

a/n: hello! First of all I want to thank everyone for the amount of love you gave to the first part of this fic that was a request and it was going to be a one piece only. But now it has become a series. This chapter is full of a lot of things so i hope you like it and share your thoughts with me. I spent the whole afternoon finishing this and the weather is almost killing me. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

You could feel the change of beating in your heart when marcus acacius looked at you now. The years of yearning and longing for freedom felt like they had met a fate the moment he said three words to you.

The golden cage you had been part of, the years of being of prisoner faded to nothing after he poured all his love for you in that kiss, in the way he touched every single inch of your skin when he made love to you.

You felt the freedom kissing your skin because you had him. You felt a string connecting both hearts beating and that was the way you coped with everything that was taken away from you.

acacius saved you, he completed you and made this world feel less lonely for you.

He felt the same, since how his hand burn over your skin or your heart beated like a beast under his palm.

He had come to learn how to love you, beyond the duty and protection he has swore to work for.

Now you were his heart and your life his purpose.

The hours before he had to leave for battle, the air around the Villa felt heavier. Charged with and unspoken tension of an impeding separation just when he had become addicted to your presence next to him.

Acacius busied himself with preparations, knowing he would give up everything in order to stay back with you. But he knew better. He was aware of how the glories he brought back from battles became the privileges that would keep your life safe.

After Lucilla sent Lucius away, you and her stayed in Rome, becoming prisoners under the ruling madness of Emperor Geta and Caracalla.

Always at bay, always with your life depending of the outcomes of Acacius battles.

And you, bound by blood and beauty, remained, a pawn in a dangerous game where your survival now depended not only on Acacius’ victories but also on Geta's unpredictable affection.

Geta’s obsession with you had become a double-edged sword. His love, if it could be called that, offered a semblance of protection, a shield against Caracalla’s wrath. Yet it was a prison of its own, trapping you within the steel of a cage, where every glance, every word, was laden with passive threats. You lived in constant vigilance, knowing that Geta's favor could turn to fury in an instant, and that fury could mean your end.

Now, Acacius battles weighed heavier over his shoulder. From this moment, with every campaign, he would risk his life, leaving you to endure the suffocating air of the emperor’s court, where you were little more than a gilded possession. He hated it, the helplessness, the waiting, the gnawing fear that one day he might not return, and you would be left to fend off Geta's advances alone.

You watched him from a distance, your fingers gripping the edge of the balcony railing. His broad shoulders bore the weight of his duty, but the occasional glance he cast your way betrayed the turmoil beneath his composed exterior. He was a man bound by honor, but also by a love that had grown more profound with each stolen moment between you.

"Will you look at me?" you whispered, your voice breaking the silence that had grown unbearable for him.

Acacius paused, his hands stilling on the edge of the balcony. Slowly, he turned to face you, and the weight of his gaze, filled with longing, regret, and the love he could never fully express in words, made your breath hitch.

"I fear," he began, his voice rough with emotion, "that if I do, I may never be able to leave."

You stepped closer, slowly, as though you could hold back time itself. "Then don't," you said, your hands reaching for him, your touch soft yet insistent as you placed your palms over his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath his clothes.

He let out a shaky breath, his forehead falling to rest against yours. "You deserve more than this life of waiting, of uncertainty. I cannot give you freedom, not truly. All I can give is my promise that I will return."

"Acacius, that’s all I need from you." you said, your voice firm, closing your eyes as you felt his warm enveloping you. “I have a surprise for you”

Acacius raised his head slightly, his brows knitting together in curiosity. “A surprise?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with intrigue.

You nodded, a small smile breaking in this moment of madness. “Come with me,” you said, taking his hand in yours. He hesitated for a moment, his sense of duty tugging at him, but the warmth of your touch and the glimmer in your eyes proved irresistible.

You led him through the villa, weaving through the familiar halls now draped in the golden hues of early evening. The air grew warmer as you approached the chamber where the servants had worked quietly under your instruction. Pushing the doors open, you revealed the scene you had prepared.

The bath was set within a sunken marble basin, steaming water rippling gently beneath a scattering of rose petals. The room was lit by the soft glow of dozens of candles, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. The scent of lavender and sandalwood lingered in the air, soothing and rich.

Acacius stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he took in the sight. “You did this… for me?”

You turned to face him, your smile soft and filled with affection. “You’re always giving so much of yourself to Rome, to the battles, and now to protect me. Tonight, I want you to let me take care of you.”

His eyes softened as they landed on you. "You’ve thought of everything," he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude.

You graced a small smile. "You deserve at least this much."

Acacius began to remove the layers he had worn all day, setting them aside piece by piece until he stood before you in nothing but the bare vulnerability you had come to know by yourself. He stepped into the bath, sighing as the warm water enveloped him, washing away the weight of the day.

You moved to leave, thinking he might prefer solitude, but his voice stopped you.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes locking onto yours. "I want you close tonight."

Your heart skipped a beat at the quiet plea in his tone. You hesitated only briefly before nodding. Removing your dress, you stepped into the bath, the warmth of the water immediately soothing your tense muscles.

Acacius reached for you, pulling you gently toward him until you were nestled against his chest. His strong arms encircled you, his hand brushing lightly against your damp hair.

"For all the battles I’ve fought," he murmured, his lips brushing your temple, "this one feels different. I can’t bear to leave you behind."

"You’ll come back," you whispered, your voice firm despite the lump in your throat.

He tilted your chin up, his gaze piercing and filled with emotion. "I will move heaven and earth to return to you, my lady." he promised.

You sat in the water together, the silence filled with the unspoken fear and hope that swirled between you. For that moment, there was no war, no emperors, no uncertain future, just the two of you, bound together by a love that defied everything else.

But still, you shifted slightly, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The warmth of his body and the soothing water wrapped around you, but the weight of reality pressed against your mind. After a moment, you spoke, your voice soft but filled with worry.

"I don’t like you fighting Geta and Caracalla’s battles," you admitted, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “They have done nothing to deserve the place they are at. All his glory comes from blood and murder. They don’t deserve loyalty.”

He sighed deeply, his hand stroking your back in slow, comforting motions. "I know," he said, his voice heavy with the same frustration. "I’ve questioned my place in their service more times than I can count. But my duty... it’s the only thing that keeps you safe. As long as I fight their battles, they have no reason to turn their cruelty toward you or Lucilla."

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze. The name of your mother troubled you. You couldn’t even name the feeling, perhaps jealousy. After all, the years Acacius had spent his life on battle were to protect her before you.

"My happiness," he whispered, “It’s you.” He said as he could read your thoughts

"How was it like?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible above the gentle ripples of the water. "When you served in Maximus's army?"

Acacius shifted slightly, the tension in his body growing palpable. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, and he took a moment before responding. "It was... different," he began cautiously, his hand never ceasing its soothing caress along your back. "Maximus was a man of honor. He fought for the empire, yes, but also for something greater. For justice, for the people."

You noticed the change in his demeanor, the way his jaw tightened and his gaze drifted, as though he were remembering something painful. You knew there was more he wasn’t telling you, a truth hidden beneath his words. "You respected him," you said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes," Acacius admitted, his voice low. "He was a leader unlike any other.”

You studied his face, searching for more, for the deeper truth that lay behind his guarded expression. "Did you know him well?" you asked, your heart pounding in anticipation.

Acacius hesitated, his eyes meeting yours with a flicker of hesitation. "I knew him," he said carefully. "He was a great man, but like all great men, he carried his burdens."

There was something in the way he spoke, a weight that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. Your curiosity piqued, but you decided to tread carefully. "My mother never spoke much about him," you said quietly. "Only that he was a noble warrior."

Acacius's hand stilled on your back, and he took a deep breath. "He was loved by people." he said gently.

You nodded, understanding the unspoken words. "I remember him more than I remember my own father," you murmured, your mind drifting to the stories you had heard of Maximus’s valor and strength. “I remember seeing him fighting at the colosseum and I remember how Lucius got obsessed with becoming a gladiator…”

Your eyes drifted somewhere else as if you were trying to find an exact extract of a moment where you would find your brother inside your memories. Acacius’s expression softened, but there was a shadow in his eyes. He knew a truth beyond, something Lucilla had confessed to him only and he had sworn never tell.

 "He defeated your uncle," he reminded you, his voice barely above a whisper trying to bring you back from your thoughts.

“I know. I can recall that day.” You said, and after a pause you spoke again. “He wasn’t different from Geta or Caracalla, but I remember how much he loved Lucius. More than me even.” You looked up at him for a moment, “I’ve never feel truly seen, truly loved…”

Acacius kissed your head, his lips lingering against your damp hair as though trying to imprint the moment into his memory. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer until there was no space between your bodies.

“You will always be loved by me” he whispered as you closed your eyes at the sensation of his lips on your head. “Until my last breath.”

You tilted your head back slightly to look up at him again, your eyes searching his face. The flickering light of the lamps cast soft shadows across his strong features, but it couldn’t mask the vulnerability in his expression.

"You remind me of Maximus” you said, tracing his jawline “You’re the strongest man I know," you whispered, placing your hand gently on his cheek. "You’ll come back to me, General Acacius. I believe in you."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though his eyes remained solemn. "You make me want to survive every impossible fight, just to see your face again."

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with your own. The bathwater lapped softly around you, the warmth a stark contrast to the cold reality of the coming day.

"Promise me something," he said after a long silence.

"Anything," you replied without hesitation.

"If I fall—"

"No," you interrupted, your voice sharp.

"Listen," he urged, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your arm. "If I fall, I need to know you’ll keep going. You’ll live, for yourself.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. "You’ve always been the braver of us," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "But I need to know you’ll fight for your happiness, even if I’m not there."

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the ache in your chest. "I’ll try," you promised, though the words felt hollow. You didn’t want to confess he had made your life easier to bare.

He kissed you then, not with urgency or desperation, but with a deep, abiding love that seemed to say everything words could not express. It was devotion in a silent vow; he would return to you.

And as the water cooled and the night deepened, you stayed in his arms, unwilling to let go, even as the weight of tomorrow loomed over you both.

When the early morning light peeked through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the bed where you still slept. Acacius lay awake, his arms wrapped around you, his chest pressed to your bare back, feeling your skin against his own. He observed the gentle rise and fall of your breathing, committing the peaceful moment to memory. Every fiber of his being ached at the thought of leaving you behind haunted by the demons that threatened to take you away.

Quietly, he shifted, slipping his arm from under you and placing a kiss on your shoulder. You stirred slightly but didn’t wake. With a heavy heart, he got out of bed, moving through the bedroom as he dressed in his armor, getting ready for another senseless battle. The sound of leather straps and the faint clink of metal echoed softly in the room.

Acacius paused at the edge of the bed, glancing back at you one last time. Your face, serene and unguarded in sleep, was a sight he wanted to carry with him into battle. He closed his eyes briefly, murmuring a silent prayer for strength before placing a longing kiss on your temple and stepping out into the hall.

Outside, a handful of guards waited, their expressions tense but respectful. They fell into step behind him as he strode toward the courtyard, the weight of his duty heavy on his shoulders. The morning air was crisp, a sharp contrast to the warmth he had just left behind.

“General!” a guard called suddenly pointing at behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

He turned, his heart clenching at the sight of you running toward him, barefoot, wearing your nightgown you must had put on in hurry. Your hair was loose, tumbling in waves around your face, and your eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“Acacius!” you called out, your voice trembling with urgency.

He met you halfway, his hands reaching out to steady you as you nearly collided with him. “What are you doing out here?” he asked, his tone both tender and concerned.

“I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye,” you said, your breaths coming in quick gasps from running. “Not like that.”

His expression softened, and he pulled you into his arms, ignoring the curious gazes of the guards. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his armor as though you could anchor him to you.

“It’s too early for you to be outside. You’re freezing,” he murmured, rubbing his hands over your arms to warm you.

“I don’t care,” you replied fiercely, looking up at him. “I couldn’t let you go without telling you that I love you, Acacius. And I’ll be waiting for you to come back to me.”

His breath hitched at your words, and for a moment, the stoic general was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a man who adored you with every fiber of his being.

“I love you, too,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“You have made my life worth living again,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but the weight of your words hung heavy between you.

His breath caught as he stared into your eyes, the raw vulnerability there piercing through every defense he had ever built. The battlefield, the war, the chaos Rome had become, all of it disappeared in that moment. There was only you, grounding him, giving him a purpose beyond the duty that had defined his life.

Acacius covered your hands with his own, the calloused warmth of his touch steadying your shaking fingers. “You’ve done the same for me,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I was lost until you brought me back to life.”

You smiled faintly, though tears streamed down your face. “Promise me you’ll come back. Promise me this won’t be the last time I see you like this.”

“I swear it,” he said firmly, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “By the gods, I’ll return to you. Nothing will keep me away.”

Your lips brushed his in a fleeting kiss, filled with all the love and hope you couldn’t put into more words. When he pulled away, he gently placed your hands back at your sides, as though committing every detail of you to memory.

“I’ll see you soon, my lady.” he said softly, before mounting his horse.

As he rode away, you stood there, the wind tugging at your gown, your heart heavy with emptiness. Watching him disappear into the horizon, you clung to his promise and touch, letting it light a spark of hope in the uncertain of what was coming without him anchor.

A gentle hand touched your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see one of your loyal servants, her eyes filled with concern as she took in the sight of your tear-streaked face.

"Come with me, my lady," she urged softly, her voice full of care. "You’ll catch a cold out here."

You nodded silently, allowing her to guide you back toward the warmth of the villa. The wind whipped around you, carrying the scent of the olives and the distant sound of Acacius’s departing horse still in your mind. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart aching with the weight of a farewell.

Once inside, the servant led you to your chambers, where a fire crackled warmly in the hearth. She helped you out of your damp gown, wrapping a thick shawl around your shoulders. "You need to rest, my lady," she said kindly, her hands lingering on yours in a gesture of comfort. "General Acacius will return sooner than you expect.”

You offered her a faint smile, though the ache in your chest was still fresh. "Thank you," you whispered, sinking into the plush cushions of the chair by the fire.

The servant bowed her head slightly before retreating, leaving you alone with your thoughts. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, their warmth doing little to ease the chill in your heart. You stared into the fire, replaying Acacius’s words in your mind, clinging to his promise as though it were a lifeline.

A few weeks had passed since Acacius left for battle, the days had stretched into endless hours that seem not to meet the dawn, time felt longer, the nights colder without Acacius filling the space. You found yourself feeling more tired lately, there were new changes happening to you body, some pain, uncomfortable sensation that you blamed on the deep emptiness settling in your heart that nothing seemed to fill.

So, as you sat at the table for breakfast, the familiar clink of silverware was the only sound in the room. Lucilla sat across from you, her regal presence unshaken, but there was a softness in her eyes as she regarded you. The way he looked at you, as a mother who was supposed to love her daughter.

"Acacius will return soon, my child," she said gently, her voice calm and reassuring. "He never—"

Before she could finish, you interrupted, a sharp edge to your tone. "You must know a lot about it," you said, your gaze fixed on your plate. The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable.

Lucilla’s expression shifted, a flicker of pain crossing her face. She set down her cup, her hands folding neatly in her lap. "What do you mean?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with a sorrow that mirrored your own.

You looked up, the walls you had built around your heart beginning to crack. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and shared pain. “You were the one he returned to before.” you said, bitterness inking your tongue.

Lucilla's face softened, her eyes reflecting the guilt he carried, the story between her and Marcus that seemed unfinished. She took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on the table.

“Yes,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He was bound to me once, by duty and by the burdens we shared. But that was a different time, a different life.”

You felt the sting of her words, the truth you had known but never fully confronted. “Different time?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Your question hung in the air, thick with the weight of your emotions. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you looked at your mother, waiting for an answer. The air between you was charged with uncertainty, like the quiet before a storm.

Lucilla shook her head, her gaze steady and filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “Yes” she said firmly. “You are his heart now. I see the way he looks at you as if the world begins and ends with you.” She paused for a bit "I never wanted you to be caught in the politics of this empire, my dear," she said, her voice soft but laden with guilt. "I never wanted you to be a pawn in a game of power between two men. But I feared what would happen if I didn't do something."

You looked at your mother, the weight of your question pressing on you. The air between you was thick with the tension of everything unspoken, of truths that had been hidden for so long. Your voice trembled slightly as you asked, "Would you have married Acacius if the emperor hadn’t courted me first? Would you have still arranged for him to marry me, or would you have chosen a different path for us?"

Her gaze fell for a brief moment before she raised it to meet yours again. "Had it not been for Emperor Geta, I would have never allowed Acacius to marry you.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips as you absorbed her words. "But you didn't expect he would end up loving me instead of you," you said, your voice laced with a mix of hurt and defiance.

Lucilla’s eyes flickered with a flash of emotion-wether it was regret or something deeper, you couldn’t quite tell. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, her tone measured but filled with a quiet resignation. "No, I didn’t expect that. I thought his loyalty would always lie with me. I never imagined he would find in you what he once saw in me."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her confession settling heavily in your chest. "And yet, you still pushed us together, knowing it would tether me to a life I never wanted."

"I believed I was protecting you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "From the dangers of court, from the whims of powerful men. I thought if you were with someone like Acacius, someone strong and honorable, you would be safe."

"Safe?" you echoed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You call this safety? Acacius leaving to fight battles to kept your place in this empire and protect me?” You took a deep breath, anger raising within you. "And what about Acacius? Did you ever consider how he felt in all of this?”

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she met your gaze once more. "I didn’t think he could love anyone else," she said, her voice breaking. "I thought his heart was mine alone, even if our paths diverged. I never anticipated that he would find solace, comfort, love... in you."

The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down. "Well, he did," you said, your voice steady but filled with a quiet strength. "And now we’re both paying the price for your miscalculations."

Lucilla reached out, her hand hovering in the air between you. "I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered. "I only wanted what was best for you."

The silence stretched once more, but this time, it was not filled with bitterness. It was laden with understanding, a shared pain that neither of you could escape.

“I only want him to come back,” you whispered, finally allowing the tears to fall. “I want him to be safe.”

Lucilla reached out, her hand covering yours in a gesture of comfort. “He will,” she promised, her voice soft but resolute. “Acacius will return, because his heart belongs to you now, and nothing will keep him away.”

You couldn’t bear the thought of a life without him. Ever since Acacius had shown you kindness, the warmth his love could offer, he had filled the hollow spaces in your heart. You had become addicted to him, to the gentle way he would brush a stray hair from your face, to the force of his arms around your waist when the weight of the world threatened to crush you.

Before Acacius, your life had been a series of obligations and sacrifices, each day blending into the next in a monotonous cycle of duty you didn’t choose. But then he appeared, his unwavering loyalty and quiet strength breaking through the walls you had built around yourself. He had finally seen you as a woman with dreams, fears, and a desperate need for freedom.

You and Lucilla remained in a heavy silence, the weight of your shared worries filling the space of the room. The warmth of her hand on yours felt protective as never before.

A servant entered the room, bowing respectfully before addressing Lucilla. "My lady, Emperor Geta has requested your presence."

Lucilla shook her head, her voice firm yet calm. "Later," she said, unwilling to let the fragile moment between you both be shattered.

The servant hesitated, shifting uncomfortably before speaking again. "No, not you, my lady. Her." His gaze flicked toward you, and the room seemed to grow colder.

Lucilla’s hand tightened on yours, her expression hardening as she closed her eyes briefly, understanding the implications of Geta’s request. She knew this moment would come, had dreaded it ever since Acacius left for battle. Geta’s twisted fascination with you was no secret to her to you, neither to Acacius. That was the reason of your marriage after all, him providing protection from him.  She feared what it meant now that Acacius was no longer there to shield you.

"Stay calm," she whispered, her eyes opening to meet yours with a shining light. "I will do everything in my power to protect you. Remember, you are stronger than you think."

Her words were meant to reassure, but the unease in her voice betrayed her true fear. You swallowed hard, trying to gather your courage as you stood. The servant’s eyes avoided yours, his discomfort evident as he waited to escort you.

With one last squeeze of your mother’s hand, you followed the servant, each step feeling heavier than the last. The shadow of Geta loomed over you, his intentions clear and menacing. But even as dread settled in your chest, you clung to Lucilla’s words and the hope that Acacius would return, his promise lighting a fragile spark in the darkness.

The quiet of the palace gardens was only broken by the soft rustling of leaves and the distant murmurs of servants. Emperor Geta was sitting on the stone bench, perhaps trying to gather his thoughts, when he noticed your presence. He turned around to face you, his golden robe gleamed faintly under the pale light of the sun, and there was an intensity in his eyes that unsettled you.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he accused you, his voice carried yearning and longing. “I understand why, but I needed to see you. To speak to you.”

You stayed silent, your gaze fixed on the ground. His presence was overwhelming, and the weight of everything he had done, and might still do, pressed heavily on you. Yet you knew there was no escaping this conversation.

Geta crouched before you, his piercing gaze softening as he studied your face. “You’ve always been kind, even when you had no reason to be. Even when I didn’t deserve it. That’s why I love you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Not because you are the princess of Rome, not because of your beauty or grace, but because you have a heart unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”

You flinched slightly at his words, unsure how to respond. “Emperor Geta,” you began hesitantly, “I’m your prisoner and my heart belongs-“

“To General Acacius,” he interrupted, bitterness creeping into his tone. “Yes, I know. But does he truly deserve it? Does he love you as I do? Does he see you for who you are?” He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and cupped your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I would give you everything,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “The empire, my loyalty, my life… I would burn the empire for you.”

You felt a lump in your throat as his words echoed in the morning. His words were both a confession and a threat, a reminder of the power he wielded and the danger that came with it. Before you could move away, he leaned closer, his forehead briefly resting against yours as if seeking solace.

Then, without warning, his arms wrapped around you in an embrace. It wasn’t harsh or demanding, it was almost tender coming from him. But the closeness made your heart race with fear. His lips hovered near your ear as he spoke again, his voice low and possessive. “You were made for me. There is not marriage, no power that can change that.”

Before you could respond, you felt the sharp sting of his teeth against your shoulder. It was a claim. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and wild, and you could see the faint trace of blood on his lips.

“That mark,” he said, his voice steadier now, “will remind you that you are mine, no matter what. Even if you deny it, even if you run to Acacius, you will carry me with you.”

You stared at him, horrified and furious, your hand instinctively going to your shoulder. The pain was sharp, and you knew the wound would scar, a permanent reminder of his obsession.

“You’re mad,” you whispered, your voice trembling with fear “This isn’t love, Geta. This is control. And I will never belong to you.”

His expression flickered, as though your words had struck a nerve. But the defiance in your voice didn’t deter him. Instead, he straightened, his composure returning. “You may hate me now, but time will change that. You’ll see,” he said softly, almost as if convincing himself. “One day, you’ll understand.”

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone under the light of the sun, that now seemed to disappear.  Your hand remained pressed against your shoulder, the wound throbbing painfully against your fingertips.

Your gown clung to your shoulder, damp with the blood running from the bite Geta had inflicted. The metallic smell lingered in the air, and the dull throb of the wound made your steps falter as you returned to the villa. You wrapped a shawl tightly around yourself, hoping to conceal the evidence of what had transpired.

The flickering lamplight in the villa's corridors cast long shadows as you entered quietly, your heart pounding in your chest. You prayed no one would notice your state. But as you made your way toward your chambers, a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Daughter?” Lucilla’s voice was soft but carried a tone of concern. She had emerged from her own chambers, her sharp eyes immediately taking in your pale face, the stiffness of your movements, and the crimson stain slowly seeping through your shawl.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re distressed. What happened?”

You shook your head, attempting to brush past her. “It’s nothing. I’m tired. I need to rest.”

But Lucilla was relentless. She reached out and gently pulled at the shawl covering your shoulder. “Let me see,” she insisted, her voice tinged with a maternal sternness that left no room for argument.

You hesitated, swallowing hard, but the look in her eyes left you no choice. Slowly, you loosened the shawl, revealing the blood-soaked fabric of your gown and the angry bite mark on your shoulder.

Lucilla gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “What in the gods’ name happened to you?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “It was Geta,” you whispered hoarsely. Regretting the words you had throwing at her earlier, “He... he bit me. He said I was his. That I would never truly belong to anyone else.”

Lucilla’s face hardened, horror contorting her features. “That monster,” she hissed, her voice trembling with anger. “He’s lost his mind. He has no right to lay a hand on you- no right at all!”

She took your hand, guiding you firmly toward your chambers. “We need to clean this wound before it festers,” she said, her voice now brisk and focused.

You followed her silently, the weight of the revelation pressing heavily on your shoulders. The pain from the bite throbbed with each step, but it was nothing compared to the turmoil swirling inside you. Lucilla’s grip on your hand was firm, a silent promise of protection despite everything that had transpired between you.

Once inside your chambers, she set about gathering water and cloths, her movements efficient and practiced. She didn’t speak, but the tension in the air was palpable, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. You sat down, your hands trembling as you tried to steady yourself.

Lucilla knelt beside you, gently peeling back the fabric of your gown to get a better look at the wound. Her expression darkened at the sight of the raw, inflamed skin. "This will sting," she murmured, dipping a cloth into the water and pressing it against the bite.

You winced, biting back a cry as the cool water met the tender flesh. "He said I could never escape him," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "That no matter what, I would always be his."

Lucilla’s hand paused for a moment before resuming her careful cleaning. "You are not his," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for doubt. "You are your own person. No one has the right to claim you, especially not in such a barbaric way."

You observed her, focused on mending your wound with such caring.

“Was it worth it?” you asked.

Lucilla’s hands stilled, her eyes momentarily closing as if the weight of your question struck her deeply. When she opened them again, her gaze was heavy with emotion.

She set the cloth aside and sat back on her heels, her hands resting in her lap. "I don’t know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I thought I was doing what was best, what would keep you safe. I believed that Acacius could protect you in ways I could not. He brings the glory they lack of and-"

Her eyes met yours, the pain in them reflecting your own. "But I never anticipated this. I never thought Geta would..." She trailed off, her voice faltering as she fought to find the words. "I wanted to shield you from the dangers of this world, from the cruel games of men like him. I thought I was giving you a chance at something better, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness."

You swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing heavily on your heart. "But it didn’t stop him," you whispered, the bitterness and sorrow mixing in your voice. "Even with Acacius by my side, he still came after me."

Lucilla’s expression crumpled, her composure breaking as tears filled her eyes. "I failed you," she admitted, her voice cracking with the weight of her guilt. “I should have sent you and Lucius away.”

Her words hung in the air, a heavy confession that seemed to echo through the silence of the room. You felt a pang of sadness at the mention of your brother, the thought of him bringing back memories of simpler, happier times.

"You wanted to protect us," you said softly, your voice trembling as you tried to console her. "You did what you thought was best."

Lucilla shook her head, her tears falling freely now. "I thought keeping you close would be safer, that I could shield you from the worst of it. But I underestimated him, underestimated the depths of his cruelty." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "Sending you away might have spared you from this... this nightmare."

You reached out, placing a hand over hers. "We can’t change the past," you said, your voice steadier now.

As you held her hand, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over you, making the room spin. You blinked, trying to steady yourself, but the sensation only intensified. Your grip on Lucilla’s hand tightened involuntarily.

Lucilla’s eyes widened in concern as she noticed your pallor. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. "You’re pale."

You nodded weakly, though the dizziness persisted. "It’s nothing," you murmured, attempting to downplay it. "It’s been happening lately... just moments of dizziness. They pass."

Her brows furrowed with worry, and she guided you to sit down, her hands firm on your shoulders. "You’ve been pushing yourself too hard," she said, her tone gentle but insistent. "Rest now. I’ll send for the healer."

You wanted to protest, to assure her that you were fine, but the fatigue and the weight of everything that had happened made it hard to argue. With a reluctant nod, you allowed her to help you lie down, her concern evident in every movement.

"Promise me you’ll tell me if it gets worse," she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "We can’t afford to ignore this."

"I will," you whispered, the heaviness of your eyelids pulling you into a restless sleep, Lucilla’s soothing presence the last thing you felt as you drifted off.

The moon casted a pale glow across the courtyard as Acacius rode back into the Villa. His horse’s hooves echoed softly against the stone pathway, a familiar sound that had once brought comfort. Now, with the weight of the world pressing down on him, it only seemed to remind him of the uncertainty and chaos that had taken hold of everyone he cared about.

As he dismounted, he glanced toward the fountain where Lucilla was tending to the delicate flowers growing around its edge. The peacefulness of the moment, in stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him, caught him off guard. His breath caught in his throat when Lucilla looked up, a soft smile appearing on her lips despite the weariness in her eyes.

"Acacius," she said warmly, her voice filled with relief as she walked toward him. Before he could say anything, she closed the distance between them and enveloped him in a tight hug. His arms instinctively wrapped around her, the familiar embrace both comforting and bittersweet.

"I’ve missed you," Lucilla murmured against his chest. "We’ve all been worried."

Acacius hesitated for a moment, then slowly returned the hug, the feeling of her presence grounding him in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. The tension in his shoulders seemed to lessen, but only slightly. He pulled back, searching her face for answers, as if he could find some peace in her expression.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice low and urgent. His eyes flicked to the passages of the place, his heart racing at the thought of seeing you again.

Lucilla sighed softly, her expression softening with concern. "She’s asleep," she said gently. "She’s been resting a lot today."

“I need to see her.” Acacius said.

Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, stopping him from moving toward the door. "She’s asleep, Acacius. She needs rest more than anything right now," she said, her tone firm but caring. "Let her sleep, please. You’ve been gone too long. You need to eat something first. You’re no good to her if you’re running on empty."

Acacius clenched his jaw, his gaze flickering toward your chambers once again. "It doesn’t matter," he said, determination in his voice. "I’ll see her now."

Lucilla’s hand tightened on his arm; her voice soft but insistent. "Please, Acacius. For her sake, you need to rest too. She’ll be fine. I’ll wake her once she’s had some rest."

He looked at her, torn between the urge to be with you and the concern for your well-being that Lucilla had so clearly expressed. The room was heavy with unspoken words, the tension between what he wanted and what was best for you both almost too much to bear.

“No. I have to see her first.” He said, walking towards where you were.

The door creaked softly as Acacius entered your chamber, his heart pounding in his chest as the longing and concern filled his. The room was dimly lit by the fading light of the moon, casting soft shadows across the bed where you lay, still deep in sleep.

He moved quietly toward you, his steps light, careful not to wake you. His gaze softened as he looked at you, taking in the way your body relaxed under the weight of exhaustion, your face serene in a peaceful slumber. The sight of you brought a bittersweet smile to his lips, and without thinking, he sat down beside you on the bed.

His hand hovered for a moment before gently caressing your face, the touch tender and filled with affection. His fingers traced the delicate curve of your cheek, as if he could somehow erase the pain and hardship, you’d endured His thumb brushed over your skin, a silent apology for everything that had happened, for everything he hadn't been able to prevent.

He observed you. He watched over you memorizing every inch of a face he had missed you for weeks.

He lived for you, breathe for you.

At the touch, you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open slowly, the fog of sleep still clouding your mind. For a moment, your gaze was unfocused, as though you weren’t fully aware of where you were or who was beside you. Your eyes met his, but there was a distant look in them, as if your mind was still caught somewhere between the dream world and reality.

Acacius held his breath, his heart aching as he watched you struggle to fully wake. "It’s me," he whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath. "I’m here."

But before he could say more, your eyes fluttered closed again, and you drifted back into a deeper sleep, your breathing slow and steady.

A soft chuckle escaped him. He leaned closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face as he whispered to you, his words meant only for your ears.

"Rest, my love," he murmured, his voice full of emotion. "I’m back.”

+++++++++++++++++++

The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. The air felt fresh, the quiet stillness of dawn wrapping itself around you like a gentle embrace. You slowly stirred, the remnants of a dream still lingering at the edges of your mind. For a moment, everything felt hazy, like the lines between the real and the imagined were blurred.

As your eyes fluttered open, you felt the comforting weight of warmth beside you, and a soft breath against your skin. For a heartbeat, you thought it was just another dream. Your mind was still foggy, the night’s turmoil and the strange sense of peace from the past few hours making it difficult to separate reality from the dreamworld.

But then, as your gaze shifted, you saw him.

Acacius was there, lying beside you, his presence so real, so tangible that it almost hurt. His features were softer in the morning light, his expression calm and peaceful as he slept. His hair fell in gentle waves around his face, and the steady rise and fall of his chest was a reminder that he was truly here.

You blinked, unsure whether this moment was part of your dream or if you had truly woken up to find him next to you. The feeling in your chest, the warmth, the weight of his presence, it was so vivid that it seemed too perfect to be real.

You slowly shifted, sitting up slightly, careful not to disturb him. Your hand reached out tentatively, brushing a strand of hair from his face. The touch was soft, hesitant, as if you were afraid, he might vanish like a dream upon waking.

But he didn’t. His warmth was solid, his breath steady, and as your fingers lingered near his skin, you realized with a rush of relief that he was truly there. You felt the tightness in your chest ease, the anxiety that had plagued you for so long slowly dissipating in the comfort of his presence.

Acacius shifted slightly, his eyes opening slowly, and when they met yours, they were filled with warmth, tenderness, and something more, something deeper.

"You’re awake," he whispered, his voice still thick with sleep but filled with a soft affection that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, still taking in the reality of the moment, still unsure whether you were dreaming or not. "I... I thought you were just part of a dream," you admitted, your voice barely more than a breath.

“I came to see you last night, but you didn’t truly see me” he smiled softly at you.

Your smile widened; he mirrored your smile. It made your heart swell. You were overwhelmed by the certainty that he was real, that he was here, and that this was not just another fleeting dream.

Without thinking, you leaned closer, your hands trembling slightly as you cupped his face, pulling him toward you. The space between you shrank with every heartbeat, and before either of you could say another word, your lips met his.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle testing of the waters, but the emotions swirling inside you, the love, the longing, the relief, soon poured into it. It deepened, quickening, both of you unable to hold back the fervor that had been building for so long. Your hands slid into his hair, tugging him closer as if you couldn’t bear the distance between you.

Acacius responded immediately, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you to him with the same urgency. His kiss was filled with the same passion, his hands tracing the lines of your back, pulling you into the warmth of his embrace as if you were the one thing that anchored him in this world.

You broke the kiss slowly, your forehead resting against his neck as you both breathed heavily, your heart racing. You lifted your head, looking at him into his eyes, searching for the same love dancing on them.

"I’ve missed you," you whispered, your voice shaky with the intensity of your feeling. “I’m glad you are back.”

Acacius's eyes softened as he gazed at you, the smile still lingering on his lips, but there was a quiet intensity now as he studied you more closely. "Last night, you didn't even see me," he chuckled, his voice low and full of affection. "Why are you so tired?" His gaze lingered on your face, searching for an explanation, a hint of concern creeping into his words.

But before you could answer, his eyes drifted to your shoulder, and the lighthearted smile faded instantly. His hand reached out gently, brushing aside the fabric of your gown to reveal the angry bite mark on your skin. His breath caught, his face contorting with anger as he traced the wound with his fingertips, his touch almost sacred.

"What... what is this?" His voice was a whisper, edged with disbelief and a growing fury. "Who did this to you?"

You winced slightly at the touch, but it wasn’t from pain, but from the overwhelming flood of emotions that rushed through you at his reaction. You were ashamed.

 "It’s... from Geta," you said softly, your voice trembling as the memory of that night flooded back. "He... he bit me.”

Acacius’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he clenched his fists. He pulled his hand away from your shoulder, his gaze never leaving the wound as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. "Geta..." he growled, his voice low and filled with contempt. "That animal."

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of the situation settled on you. "It’s nothing," you tried to reassure him, but the words felt hollow. "It’s just a bite. I’ll be fine."

But Acacius wouldn’t be soothed so easily. He leaned closer, his hands gently cupping your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "It’s not just a bite," he said firmly, his voice steady but full of determination. "You’re not just a victim of his games, and I won’t let you be."

His thumb traced the line of your cheek, his expression softening with an intensity that took your breath away. "I will make sure this never happens again," he promised, his voice low and filled with an unspoken vow.

Acacius's words hung in the air, carrying a promise as his hands gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. Without a word, he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead, a tender kiss that seemed to erase some of the heaviness in your heart. His lips lingered there for a moment, as if grounding you in the warmth of his protection, before he moved to kiss your temple, his touch both gentle and filled with an overwhelming tenderness.

Each kiss was a quiet declaration of his love, his need to soothe the pain and the fear that had taken root in your heart. His lips trailed down your cheek, the soft pressure of each kiss igniting a calmness in you, a sense of safety that had been lacking during his absence. As he kissed your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, his touch was soft and reverent, like he was willing to erase every trace of hurt you had face.

"You don’t have to carry this alone," he whispered against your skin, his breath warm as it fanned across your face. "I’ll be here. Always."

Your heart beat wildly in your chest, the overwhelming emotions of relief and love flooding through you as you closed your eyes, letting him soothe your pain. You weren’t his to fix but you were his to love.

The way he kissed you with such care, it was as if he was healing not just the physical wound, but the deeper, hidden scars.

As he kissed your lips, a soft, lingering touch, you finally opened your eyes to meet his once more. His gaze was full of such raw emotion, as though he, too, was feeling the depth of the moment.

"I love you," he whispered softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ll do anything to keep you safe, to keep you whole."

He knew the plan he had under his hands. He would free Rome from the tyranny and free you from the fear.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the announcer introduced the key figures present at the Colosseum. The names of the emperors, Geta and Caracalla, echoed through the massive arena, met with cheers and restrained applause. Then came Lucilla's name, and the reaction was thunderous.

"Lucilla, the beloved daughter of Rome!"

The cheers were wild, a wave of adoration sweeping through the crowd. People stood, clapping and calling her name, their admiration evident in every gesture. You watched as Lucilla stood gracefully, acknowledging the crowd with a serene smile, her presence commanding the space in a way that only she could.

Your eyes flicked to Acacius, who was seated beside you. His gaze lingered on Lucilla, a soft, unreadable expression on his face. Admiration, respect... perhaps something more?

Your thoughts were threatening to betray you again, after the accident with emperor geta not even Acacius’ reassurance could take you away from that dark place of your mind.  

The thought clawed at you, your chest tightening painfully. You tried to look away, but the image was seared into your mind: the way his lips curved into the faintest of smiles, the way his eyes seemed to curse you.

Acacius was holding your hand, tightly but your skin felt empty. A cold wave of detachment washed over you. The cheers around you became distant, muffled, as though you were underwater. Your heart felt heavy, your thoughts spiraling into the possibility that you had been wrong all along.

Had he chosen you, or had he simply settled for you?

You were lost in the haze, barely registering the sound of the announcer continuing the introductions. It wasn't until you heard your name being called that the fog lifted.

"And now, the princess of Rome, our General Acacius' beloved wife!"

The crowd clapped politely, but it was nothing compared to the ovation Lucilla had received. You blinked rapidly, startled back into the present. Acacius had turned to you, his hand still touching yours.

"Are you all, right?" he asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His brows knitted with concern as he studied your face.

You forced a smile, though it felt brittle. "I'm fine," you replied, the lie slipping easily from your lips.

Acacius' gaze lingered, his frown deepening slightly, but he said nothing more. He turned his attention back to the arena, his grip on your hand tightening slightly as though to reassure you.

But the seed of doubt had been planted, and no matter how tightly he held onto you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he might not truly be yours.

You weren’t naive, nor blind to the reality of the world you had grown up in. The web of alliances and betrayals, the quiet manipulations cloaked in love and duty, those were woven into the very fabric of your existence.

And now, here you were, seated beside Acacius in the Colosseum, as the echoes of Lucilla's name still hung in the air. You couldn’t stop the twisting knot in your stomach. The way Acacius had looked at her earlier, the subtle warmth in his eyes, wasn’t something you could ignore.

You weren’t stupid. You had always known there was a past between your mother and Acacius, a bond that ran deeper than either of them cared to admit aloud. They might have buried it under the guise of duty, but you saw the shadows of it, lingering in their words, in their looks.

This wasn’t just about the admiration Acacius showed Lucilla in the public eye or the respect the people of Rome gave her. It was about how every move seemed calculated, as though Lucilla had once again positioned herself as the center of the narrative. And you? You were a mere piece on the board, trapped by the choices made to “protect” you, thrown into a marriage that sometimes felt like a gilded cage.

Your mind raced. Were you just another pawn in a game of power, destined to be discarded when your use was up? A part of you feared that Lucilla had orchestrated this entire situation, not to protect you, but to ensure Acacius stayed close, tethered to her orbit under the guise of protecting her daughter.

How Geta looked at you as if he owned you.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"You’re unusually quiet today," Acacius said beside you, his voice calm but tinged with curiosity.

“I’m just… thinking,” you murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, avoiding his intense gaze for a moment.

Acacius shifted closer, his presence radiating the strength you so desperately needed right now. “Thinking about what?” His tone was soft, but there was a sharpness in it, the concern for you evident beneath the calm surface.

You hesitated, biting your lip as the image of Geta’s cold eyes lingered in your mind and sitting just centimeters from you. "How he looks at me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like he owns me. Like I’m a possession."

Acacius’s expression darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as if he were struggling to keep his emotions in check. "He will never own you," he whispered for yourself to hear, his hand gently grasping yours. “You belong to no one but yourself.”

Before you could respond, the distant sounds of the gladiators preparing for the fight reached your ears, shouting commands. The world outside seemed to snap back into focus, the heavy air now filled with tension as Acacius’s duty called to him.

His hand lingered on yours, but there was a palpable shift in the air between you. The intensity of the moment, the weight of his words, and the fear of what might come next made everything feel suddenly fragile. For a heartbeat, you wished you could stay suspended in this moment, untouched by the chaos that was about to unfold.

Your attention also shifted to the arena, where the clash of steel and the roar of the crowd filled the air. A single gladiator stood out among the combatants, his movements precise, calculated, almost effortless. Something about him felt oddly familiar, tugging at the edges of your memory.

He moved with a grace you’d only seen in a few, his strikes landing with deadly accuracy, his stance reminiscent of a soldier rather than a slave. The sun caught the sharp lines of his face for a moment, and for a moment, your breath hitched.

It couldn’t be.

The gladiator turned slightly, and you swore you could see the faint scar across his cheek, the same scar you remembered tracing with your finger once, years ago. Just as he used to do it with yours, the one you had just above your eyebrow.

It can’t be Lucius.

Your heart raced as you sat frozen, unable to look away. What was he doing here? Why was he in the arena, fighting for his life as if he were no more than a pawn for entertainment?

"Are you all, right?" Acacius asked, leaning closer to you, his tone concerned.

You barely heard him, your focus entirely on the gladiator. The crowd erupted in cheers as he disarmed his opponent, standing victorious in the center of the arena. His chest rose and fell heavily, but his gaze lifted, scanning the crowd as if searching for someone.

When his eyes met yours, the recognition wasn’t there, but you feel in your heart.

He didn’t smile, didn’t falter, but you could see the fire in his eyes, the defiance, the unspoken words that passed between you in that fleeting moment. He was here for a reason and it wasn’t just surviving.

The ride back to the villa was suffocating. The echoes of the crowd’s cheers and the clash of steel still lingered in your ears, but your thoughts were consumed by Lucius. You had barely spoken a word since leaving the Colosseum, and Acacius, sensing your unease, remained silent beside you.

Your mother, seated across from you, attempted to meet your gaze, but you kept your eyes focused on the window. The weight of the day pressed down on you, and exhaustion threatened to pull you under.

When you finally arrived at the villa, you stepped out of the carriage without a word. The evening air was cool, but it did little to soothe the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t wait for anyone, heading straight to your chambers, your footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Acacius called your name softly as you walked away, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t face him. Not now.

Once inside your room, you shut the door and leaned against it, the tension in your body finally breaking as you slid to the floor. You felt tears prick your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not yet.

Instead, you crawled to the bed, too drained to even remove your sandals. You climbed under the covers, pulling them tightly around you as if they could shield you from the storm inside your head.

Your eyelids grew heavy, and though the weight of the day lingered in your chest, sleep began to claim you. The last thing you heard was the faint creak of the door opening and quiet footsteps entering the room.

Acacius.

He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t have the strength to look at him. You felt the bed dip slightly as he sat beside you. A warm hand rested lightly on your shoulder, and his thumb brushed against the fabric of your sleeve.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice low, filled with a quiet worry.

+++++++++

The night was quiet as you walked through the villa, your footsteps muffled on the stone floors. The house felt empty despite the people inside, the silence pressing in on you. When you stepped into the garden, the cool breeze brushed against your skin, but it did little to calm the restless thoughts swirling in your mind.

It was there, among the shadows of the tall, ancient trees, that you saw them. Acacius and your mother, Lucilla, standing close together, speaking in hushed tones. Their words were soft, but you could feel the weight of the conversation, the tension between them thick enough to be felt even from where you stood. Acacius’s hand hovered just above Lucilla’s arm, his posture protective, and though their expressions were unreadable, there was something in the way they stood together that felt... familiar. Too familiar.

A sharp pang of jealousy gnawed at your chest, but you didn’t dare move closer. Instead, you turned silently on your heel and walked back to your chambers.

You couldn’t bear to stay in that room any longer, not with the questions swirling in your mind, not when you felt so abandoned in the very space that should’ve been your refuge. Without a second thought, you grabbed a cloak and threw it over your shoulders, the fabric billowing softly as you exited the villa once more.

The air outside the villa was cool and quiet as you slipped through the shadows, your heart pounding with each step. The guards were focused elsewhere, their attention scattered by the faint buzz of the city. The path to the gladiator quarters was one you had never taken before, but your determination pushed you forward.

When you reached the holding area, the scent of sweat and iron filled the air. Lanterns flickered dimly, casting long shadows on the walls. The clinking of chains and low murmurs from the gladiators made your stomach churn, but you pressed on.

Hanno, you were told his name was.

But in your heart, he was Lucius.

You spotted him immediately. His broad back was turned to you, his head bowed as he held something in his hands. The sight of him like this inside this cell, broke your heart.

Taking all your courage, you stepped forward. “Hanno.”

He didn’t look up. “What now? You people love seeing prisoners like this, don’t you?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.

You flinched but held your ground. “I’m not here to gawk. I’m here to talk.”

He finally turned; his sharp features illuminated by the lantern’s glow. His eyes locked onto yours, cold and untrusting at first.

He stood in front of a prisoner dressed in gold, not knowing the story interlocked between you both.

You said nothing, frozen under his piercing stare.

Hanno stood slowly, his presence sent shivers down your spine, you didn’t fear him but the possibility of him being your beloved brother.

Hanno’s eyes narrowed as he looked you up and down, his stance growing more rigid. The silence between you felt thick, charged with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was low and clipped, filled with suspicion. “Are you the general’s wife?” His words were sharper than the chill in the night air, and they stung like a slap.

You held your ground, refusing to be intimidated, though your pulse quickened at the mention of Acacius. The tension between you and Hanno was palpable, and yet you could sense something else, something more.

“I’m not here for him” you said, your voice steady but quieter than you intended. “I’m here to see the gladiators. To make sure they’re well.”

Hanno scoffed, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “You think they deserve your pity? These men? You’re nothing more than a part of this twisted game, just like the rest of them.” His words hit like a blow, but you didn’t flinch, though they stung nonetheless.

He stepped closer, his eyes flicking to the guards who watched from the shadows, before turning back to you with disdain.

“You wear their pain like a cloak, but you’re not one of them,” he spat. “You’re just another piece of property, owned by the man you married. Don’t pretend you’re anything else. You can’t fool me. You-”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes catching on something above your eyebrow. His gaze sharpened, his face shifting from scorn to recognition. His expression faltered slightly, and he took a step closer, his attention now focused entirely on the scar.

“That scar…” he whispered, his voice faltering. “No. It can’t be...”

You said nothing, frozen under his voice.

The world seemed to slow as your heart raced. You had never told anyone about it, not in years. It was a relic of another time, another life before this one, before the crown, before Acacius.

Hanno’s eyes widened, his hand rising instinctively toward your face, as if drawn by some invisible thread.

“Your name is Lucius Velarius,” Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke “You’re the brother to a siste who is stand in front of you right now, hoping that’s is you.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to convince himself you were real. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight embrace, his rough hands trembling as they held you., You could hardly breathe, the weight of the revelation pressing down on you. The realization came slowly, but it hit you hard, like a hammer to the chest.

Your brother.

His eyes softened as the truth sank in, and for the first time in years, you saw the hint of a smile tug at his lips, though it was tinged with sadness. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he murmured, his voice breaking.

He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the scar on your face, as if confirming you were truly there, truly the same person he had once known. “I thought you were dead,” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly.

“I thought you were dead” you replied, your throat tight with emotion.

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his tunic. “I thought I would never see you again.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands gripping your shoulders as he studied your face. “Why are you here? This is no place for someone like you.”

“I had to see you,” you replied, your voice trembling. “I couldn’t stand not knowing if it was really you.”

Lucius’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “You shouldn’t have come. If they find you here-”

“I don’t care,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “You’re my brother, and I won’t abandon you.”

His eyes softened again, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders. “Then we have much to talk about, sister.”

+++++++++++++

Lucius sat down heavily on a wooden bench, wincing as he shifted his weight. The dim light of the small cell barely illuminated the fresh gashes and bruises marring his skin. Your hands trembled as you dipped a cloth into a bowl of water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against a cut on his shoulder.

He hissed in pain, but you didn’t stop. “Hold still,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “These need to be cleaned, or they’ll get infected.”

Lucius watched you closely, his gaze flickering between your face and the careful movements of your hands. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

“And you shouldn’t be fighting for their entertainment,” you shot back, your eyes narrowing. “But here we are.”

He let out a dry chuckle, though it quickly turned into a wince. “You’ve grown sharper since we last saw each other.”

“You left me no choice,” you replied, dabbing at a particularly deep cut. “I had to learn how to survive without you.”

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the sound of water dripping back into the bowl. Lucius finally spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You know it wasn’t my choice.”

You paused, your hands stilling as his words sank in. “You never tried to come back.”

“I would be dead.” he admitted, his jaw tightening.

You shook your head, resuming your work. “But you are not.”

His hand reached up, catching yours and stilling your movements. “But what about you?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. “What have they done to you?”

You hesitated, the question cutting deeper than any blade. “It doesn’t matter,” you said finally, avoiding his gaze. “What matters is getting you out of here.”

Lucius’s grip on your hand tightened. “And how do you plan to do that? These people… they don’t let anyone go, not without a price.”

“Then I’ll pay it,” you said, meeting his eyes with determination. “Whatever it takes, I’ll free you, Lucius.”

He stared at you for a long moment, “You’ve always been stubborn,” he said with a small, bittersweet smile.

“And you’ve always underestimated me,” you replied, dabbing at his wounds one last time.

Lucius's gaze softened as he watched you work, the rough edges of his hardened exterior beginning to crack just slightly. There was something in the way you spoke, the quiet determination in your voice that made him believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that maybe, just maybe, you could change the outcome of his life.

+++++++++

The trip back to the villa was a blur, your mind heavy with the thoughts of Lucius, and the promise you had made to him. As you arrived at the villa, the sight of the grand stone walls did little to ease the tension in your chest. You couldn’t stay in that cell forever, and you knew there would be consequences for what you’d just done.

Inside, the quiet stillness of the villa seemed to press in on you. You didn’t want to face Acacius, not after everything. Not after what had just happened with Lucius, with the way he had looked at you and spoken to you, reminding you of the bond you shared, the family that had once been torn apart.

But you didn’t have a choice.

Acacius was waiting for you in the courtyard, his broad figure standing against the fading light of day, the tension in his posture unmistakable. His eyes, dark and intense, followed you as you walked toward him. You could feel the weight of his gaze like a physical presence.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice edged with something sharp, something that wasn’t just concern. It was frustration. Maybe anger. You didn’t know anymore.

“I’m not here to discuss time, Acacius,” you replied, your voice cooler than you intended, but the fight in your chest was growing.

He stepped forward, his expression tightening. “Where were you?”

“Out, taking a walk,” you said bluntly, not willing to sugarcoat it.

Acacius’s eyes flashed with anger, and before you could even process it, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm with an intensity that caught you off guard. “Where?” he asked, his voice low but simmering with rage. “What were you thinking?”

You yanked your arm back, glaring at him. “What does it matter to you?” The words escaped before you could stop them, frustration bubbling over. “You were busy with my mother, right?”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening at your words. His hand dropped from your arm, but the tension between you both was thick. "That's not the point," he said, his voice colder now. "The point is, you didn't come to me. You didn't think to tell me where you were going, what you were doing. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to go off on your own, especially with everything going on? After what Geta did to you?"

His anger was palpable, but so was the hurt. You could see it in the way his fists clenched at his sides, the way he stared at you as if you were slipping away from him, slipping away from the bond you shared. It was clear to him that there was something more, something deeper happening, and he didn’t know how to reach you in this moment.

He stepped closer, his breath coming quicker now, trying to seem calm, maybe even desperate, hidden behind the harshness of his words. "I care because I love you," he said, his voice low, almost broken. "Even when I’m angry.”

Your heart hammered in your chest, the raw honesty of his words piercing through the fog of anger that had clouded your mind. You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come.

"I don't need your love, Acacius," you said finally, the words slipping out more bitter than you intended, making up a lie you didn’t believe “Your love made me weak, Acacius.”

Acacius froze, his face going pale as your words cut through him like a dagger. The air between you both seemed to freeze, his body stiffening as if the words had physically wounded him. For a long moment, neither of your spoke, the only sound in the room was the heavy, labored breathing from both of you.

His voice trembled when he spoke again. "You think I made you weak?" He took a slow step toward you, his eyes searching yours with disbelief and pain. "You think my love for you made you weak?"

You tried to steady your breath, but it caught in your throat. Your heart twisted painfully as you met his gaze, seeing the hurt in his eyes, the raw emotion that mirrored your own. But you held firm, even as your chest tightened with regret.

"Yes," you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to remain cold. "I had to rely on it. On you. And now..." You couldn’t finish your sentence, the words getting stuck. The truth you refused to admit was suffocating you.

Acacius didn’t move. His face was unreadable, but his eyes, those soft brown eyes that had once looked at you with so much tenderness were broken.

The moment you saw the tears fall from his eyes, something inside you shattered. The wall you had so carefully built around your heart crumbled, and you felt the weight of everything you’d been holding in, your fears, your anger, your pain, all come rushing to the surface. You had hurt him, and the sight of his vulnerability, of the pain in his eyes, made you feel like you were drowning.

"I didn’t mean it," you whispered, your voice breaking as the truth tumbled out of you. "It’s a lie... I’m sorry, Acacius. I didn’t mean it."

Before you even realized what you were doing, you stepped toward him, closing the distance between you, and kissed him. Your lips crashed against his with an urgency you couldn’t contain, as if trying to take back all the hurt, all the mistakes, in one breath. The kiss was desperate, frantic, and full of apologies you didn’t know how to say.

He couldn’t hold back, he kissed you back, his arms pulling you closer, his hands sliding into your hair. His kiss was full of relief, as if he had been waiting for this moment for far too long.

You broke the kiss reluctantly, your forehead resting against his as you tried to catch your breath. "I’m sorry," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper. "I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t know how to... how to deal with my jealousy.”

Acacius cupped your face, his eyes searching yours as if looking for the truth in them. "I love you. Only you." he said softly. "

“Show me.” You pleaded, “Show me how much you love me, Acacius.”

His hands were gentle, but there was an urgency in his touch that matched the racing of your heart. Acacius pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again, this time with a fiercer intensity, as if he couldn't get enough of you. The way he held you made everything else in the world fade away.

You circled your legs around his waist instinctively, feeling the warmth of his body press against yours. His arms were around you, steady and strong, and for a moment, it felt as though the weight of the world had lifted. There was no war, no political schemes, no uncertainty, only the two of you, caught in a moment of raw, vulnerable truth.

Acacius broke the kiss just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours. "You have me," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "In every way. I always have."

You could feel his heart pounding, matching the beat of your own. He held you tighter, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands roaming to places that made your breath hitch in your chest. "Show me," you whispered again, more desperately now, wanting to feel every piece of him, to bridge the gap between the broken parts of you both.

++++++++++++

The next morning, a summons arrived from Emperor Geta, delivered by one of his trusted attendants. You knew you couldn’t avoid him forever, though a sense of foreboding settled deep in your chest. As you entered the emperor’s hall, you were greeted with the sight of an opulent feast laid out on a long table, the scents of roasted meats and sweetened wine filling the air.

Geta stood at the head of the table, his expression warm but calculating. “Ah, the princess of Rome,” he said with a smile, gesturing for you to join him. “Come, sit. Let us enjoy the morning together.”

You hesitated before stepping forward, your gaze flicking to the feast. “Do you do this for all your prisoners?” you asked, your tone laced with sarcasm.

Geta laughed, a rich sound that echoed through the hall. “For you? Always.”

You took your seat cautiously, your back straight and your hands folded in your lap. Despite the lavish setting, there was no mistaking the undercurrent of tension in the room.

“I’ve heard some interesting tales,” Geta began, leaning back in his chair and studying you. “Stories about my dear princess sneaking into the gladiators’ quarters. Healing slaves, no less.” His eyes glittered with amusement and something darker.

Your stomach tightened, but you met his gaze steadily. “I didn’t realize compassion was a crime,” you said evenly.

Geta chuckled, pouring himself a goblet of wine. “Compassion? Is that what you call it?” He leaned forward, his voice dropping. “Tell me, what’s going on? Why risk yourself for men who are nothing more than property? What would General Acacius say if he knew his wife was spending her nights in such unsavory company?”

Your heart raced, but you kept your expression calm. “Acacius has no reason to doubt me,” you said carefully.

Geta swirled the wine in his goblet. “How noble. But I wonder... is there more to this than you’re letting on?”

You forced a small smile, even as your hands tightened in your lap. “What could there possibly be, Emperor? I am simply doing what I can to ease the suffering of others.”

He watched you closely, as though searching for a crack in your armor. Finally, he leaned back with a sigh, his playful demeanor returning. “You are fascinating,” he said. “A woman of such fire and mystery. It is no wonder I love you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you maintained your composure. “I am married to General Acacius,” you reminded him firmly.

“And yet here you are, sitting with me,” he said with a smirk.

You said nothing, unwilling to give him more power over you.

The feast continued in strained silence, and though Geta’s attention remained fixed on you, you managed to deflect his probing questions. By the time the meal ended, you felt as though you had just survived a battle of your own.

As you left the hall, your mind raced with thoughts of Lucius. You couldn’t let Geta or anyone else discover the truth about his identity.

As the feast continued, Emperor Geta leaned forward, his piercing gaze fixed on you as you took a sip of the wine he had poured. The drink was sweeter than you expected, with an almost metallic tang that lingered on your tongue.

You set the goblet down, a faint unease creeping over you. Your head felt oddly heavy, as though the air around you had thickened. Still, you forced yourself to maintain your composure, unwilling to show any weakness in front of him.

“You seem quiet,” Geta remarked, his voice smooth and casual, but his eyes glimmered with something far more dangerous. “Is the wine not to your liking?”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. “It’s... fine,” you managed, though your voice sounded distant, even to yourself.

He smiled, leaning back in his chair as though satisfied. “Good. It’s a rare ancient. Fit for a princess such as yourself.”

A strange warmth spread through your limbs, dulling your senses. Your vision blurred slightly, the edges of the room softening. Alarm bells rang in your mind, but you pushed them aside, trying to focus on Geta’s voice as he continued to speak.

“I can see why Acacius is so fond of you,” he said, his tone almost mocking. “You have a way of captivating men, don’t you? Even ones who should know better.”

You clenched your hands beneath the table, willing yourself to stay upright. “If you have something to say, Emperor, say it,” you replied, though your voice wavered.

Geta’s smile widened, but there was no humor in it. “Oh, I’ve said enough. The rest... well, time will tell.”

A wave of nausea hit you suddenly, and you reached for the table to steady yourself. Geta’s expression didn’t change, but you caught the faintest flicker of satisfaction in his eyes.

“Perhaps the wine was too strong for you,” he said, feigning concern. “You should rest. Shall I have someone escort you back to the villa?”

You shook your head, forcing yourself to stand despite the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm you. “No... I can manage.”

He rose as well, stepping closer to you. His hand brushed your arm, the touch cold despite the heat radiating from your skin. “Take care, my dear,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

You pulled away, your heart pounding as you stumbled toward the door. The room spun around you, and each step felt like a battle. By the time you reached the villa, your body was trembling, and your breath came in shallow gasps.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,”

Acacius whispered, his arms pulling you closer, cradling you against him.

“I’ve got you.”

+++++++++++

Tags 💌: (if you want to be removed feel free to tell me. I'm super shy when it comes to tags. By the way I couldn't tag everyone)

@greenwitchfromthewoods @joeldjarin @picketniffler @sptbear @bambisweethearts @immyowndefender @nobodyssfool @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @idkwhylou @jasminedragoon @ro-nahime-things @hduuc56 @mamustreads @itsafullmoon @tuquoquebrute @ccmoonshine

[gublerryswift]

Why does she give a damn about me? | Spencer Reid x Reader

cutesy, cheesy fluff

In wich Spencer thinks reader is out of his league but she could not be more into him.

Content: Garcia is a queen as always, sunshine!reader

Warnings: Maybe some light lack of self steem from spence, but nothing crazy!!

He was used to it at this point. Being the weird kid in high school and college, Spencer never really expected anyone to be into him and, after being rejected a couple of times, he had practically closed himself off in that sense. But then, you came into the picture.

You are one of those girls that everyone seemed to gravitate toward, not only because of your beauty but because of your essence. You were genuinely kind, smart and good with people in a way he wished he was, maybe that’s why he was so drawn to you, you had all the qualities he wished he had and being close to you made him feel complete.

Needless to say that he was in love with you, it had started as an admiration and when he realized he was thinking about you all the time, but he was sure you would never be into guys like him, he was sure you’d never see him as more than friends.

–

You had joined the team a few years ago, you were excited to finally be doing what you really wanted when you joined the BAU, going out in the field and being on cases instead of just working a desk job all the time. When you first met the team, everyone seemed very welcoming but you felt yourself especially drawn to Spencer out of all people, at first he seemed distant but with time you noticed how sweet he was and how much he cared for everyone around him and god that man was so funny, you loved his weird science jokes and his magic tricks. How were you supposed to not fall in love with him? You asked yourself that question every time he brought you coffee in the morning or went on his rambles about some random thing.

After a particularly intense inquiry from a very drunk Garcia in one of the girls' nights she organized at her home, you told her your feelings for Reid and she made you swear you would act on it.

“Garcia, I'm not confessing. He's not into me like that, i’ll just ruin our friendship”

“Oh honey, he practically kisses the floor you walk in, he follows you around the office like a lost puppy and practically kills any officer that dares to be the tiniest bit mean to you. There’s no way he’s not into you, at least try pretty please” She says, doing puppy eyes at you. Garcia took her job as a cupid very seriously and was not going to let this be her first fail.

“Alright, i’ll try but if he ends up hating me you’ll have to bake me cookies everyday until i die” You say rolling your eyes and finishing your glass of wine.

“Ohhh i’ll be cooking cookies for you guys wedding!”

–

So, here you are holding his favorite order from the local coffee shop and gathering the courage to press the button to the elevator

“Hey are you fine?” A familiar voice calls you, when you turn around its spencer.. Great, guess you’ll have to do this right now

“Oh hi yeah, I was just um… meditating”

“Did you know meditanting has been proven to increase your memory and is also great for reducing anxiety. I really should start doing it, what method do you use?” Spencer says while pressing the button to the elevator

“Ummm breath in, breath out i think” You say, unsure how to respond

“That's actually one of the best ways as it oxygenates your brain and helps it work better, it can also help you feel more calm since deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system that sends a signal to your brain to tell the anxious part that you're safe and don't need to use the fight, flight response” He says, doing the little smile and head nod thing he always does after info dumping.

You smile back at him, as you both enter the elevator and press the button to the BAU floor.

“I brought you something” You say, handing him the coffee shop bag

He opens it and smiles at you “I can’t believe you remembered my favorites, thank you so much” You love that smile so much, all you can think about is how perfect he is and how there’s no way you can continue on without dating this man.

“Actually, I need to tell you something spence… I was thinking, maybe we could go out together as like, a date or something” You say, already blushing from the embarrassment you felt and how scared you were that he did not reciprocate the feelings.

“Really? Of course i want, to be honest i’ve wanted to ask you to be honest but i thought you’d never see me like that”

“Are you kidding me spencer? I’ve had a crush on you since we first meet”

The elevator gets to the office, and you both walk in blushing and joking about how you two were so blind to each other's feelings. As you get in, garcia passes by you two stopping to stare

“There’s something happening here…” She says, pointing between you two and pressing her eyes together as if she’s profiling you two

“I asked him out”

“Oh my god finally, you see? I’m always right, I don’t even need to ask what he said, look at Reid, he’s glowing, ohh i’m so happy” She says, walking out to probably tell the news to everyone on the team.

[mononijikayu]

what’s your type? — gojo satoru.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?” “Ask away.” “.........What’s your type?” You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?” “I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much. Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—” You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 10k words.

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. he won second place in the last poll, so his story has to be contrasting sukuna!!! thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

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u s and t h e m

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November 2005

IT'S ALMOST BEEN SIX MONTHS AND SOMEHOW HE STILL DOESN’T KNOW YOU. And because of this he doesn’t think he can sleep at night. You were Gojo Satoru's senpai, a figure shrouded in mystery and calm that even he, with all his power and insight, could not easily unravel. To Satoru, you were more of an enigma than he could ever hope to be—a person who never spoke more than necessary, and when you did, it was with careful precision, revealing only what was directly asked.

You were a Zen'in by blood, yet you never uttered a word of reproach against your relatives, despite their reputation. It was no secret that the Zen'in clan was a place of harshness and cruelty, but you kept your thoughts tightly sealed, never letting your personal feelings slip. Not even with discontent, it somehow never found a way out of your lips. Your life outside of missions and the classroom was a locked box that Satoru could never open.

Gojo Satoru can’t help it, but he often finds himself wondering about you. Your restraint, your quiet strength. Everything about you was so unlike him, so tranquil and graceful and yet, in some ways, it was what made you so fascinating to him. He knew you didn’t like the higher–ups, nor the clan elders; it was in the way your deep purple eyes would narrow ever so slightly during meetings, in the subtle tension in your posture.

But you never voiced your displeasure, not even in private. Yaga–sensei thinks you got that from your father. And you were too much like him. It was unquestionable, unshakable, vibrant loyalty to the jujutsu world, but Gojo Satoru couldn't tell whether it was out of duty, fear, or something else entirely.

For someone like Gojo Satoru, who thrived on breaking down barriers and challenging the status quo the moment he was born, your unwavering silence on certain matters was almost infuriating. He doesn’t think you were that way when you were born either. But perhaps he was used to being the one who held all the cards, who saw through people with ease.

Yet with you, he was left guessing, speculating. You were the aloof cloud he can never understand. Even when he tried to prod for more, you would give him just enough to satisfy his immediate curiosity but never enough to truly understand you. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to understand you. To get to know you. To be close to you.

It wasn't that you were cold or distant—far from it, he thinks. You were always there, always supportive when it mattered. Maybe even more than Yaga–sensei sometimes. But you kept your past, your thoughts, and your emotions locked away in a treasure trove he’s been trying to find. And just as always, it was leaving Satoru to wonder what kind of experiences shaped the person you were. Were you haunted by the same ghosts that plagued him, or was your silence a shield against something far darker?

To him, you were like a mirror that reflected his own complexities. The first in centuries to be born with the gift of Ryomen Hiromi, the only heir of the Zen’in clan in its lifetime. But maybe you were someone with a filter that softens the edges. You represented a kind of strength that didn’t need to flaunt itself—a quiet resilience that came from facing the world with resolve and not letting it change who you were at your core.

In a world full of curses and chaos, where everyone had their demons, you remained the one riddle Gojo Satoru couldn’t solve. A mystery he wished to solve. And perhaps that was why, despite all his power and knowledge, he found himself drawn to you again and again, in search of the answer to the question that haunted him the most: Who were you, really? Who was this senpai he looked up to the most?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gojo Satoru's footsteps as he paced back and forth. His restless energy filled the space, making it impossible for Geto Suguru to focus on his book. After a few more laps, Suguru finally had enough and gave up, placing the book aside.

"Satoru, would you stop that? You're making me dizzy." Suguru said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And now the book feels moot to your annoying footsteps.”

Satoru paused mid-step, looking at Suguru with a pout. "I can't help it! I’m just too curious about them. They’re always so secretive."

Ieiri Shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold from her spot on the couch, took a drag from her cigarette before chiming in. "Let him be, Suguru. At least he’ll burn off some of that energy. We might actually get some peace and quiet later."

Satoru shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that bad."

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue the point. Instead, she leaned back and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."

Suguru, however, wasn’t quite done. "You shouldn’t pry into their life, Satoru. That’s their business, not ours."

Satoru crossed his arms, his curiosity still burning brightly in his eyes. "But they never talk about anything! Don't you want to know more about them?"

Shoko nodded in agreement with Suguru. "I do, but it’s not our place to dig into their past. If they want to share something, they will. Until then, we respect their privacy."

Satoru sighed, his excitement dimming slightly. He knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was something about the mystery that you carried with you that kept pulling him in, a puzzle that he was desperate to solve.

"Fine." he conceded, plopping down on the couch next to Shoko. "But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep wondering."

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing you, that’s as close to restraint as we’re going to get."

Shoko smirked and gave Satoru a light tap on the head. "Just don’t let it consume you, alright?"

Satoru grinned, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. "No promises.”

Satoru leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off his curiosity about you, but it was harder than he expected. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery that was his strong, dependable senpai. Despite the warnings from Suguru and Shoko, he couldn't help himself.

"Come on, Suguru, don’t you wonder about anything? Like, what type of women they’re into?" Satoru suddenly asked, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in entertaining Satoru’s curiosity any further. He has had enough for a whole day already. He sighed. "Satoru, seriously? I thought you put it to rest already!”

“But I wanna know more about them. What’s their favorite mochi? Do they like coffee? What’s their favorite cafe? Do they like idols? What’s their type—”

“Satoru, stop—Ah, my ear! That was so loud!”

“Suguboo!” The blue eyed sorcerer cried as he leaned against Suguru’s shoulder as Suguru groaned with exasperation, trying to get Satoru off him.

But Shoko, who had been lazily biting the lollipop in her mouth, suddenly perked up at the sight.  A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her flip phone, her fingers typing away with practiced ease. 

Satoru noticed and immediately scooted closer. "Wait, Shoko, what are you doing? Do you know something? Don’t tell me you have senpai’s number. Are you texting them? Tell me! I’m dying here!"

Shoko grinned, enjoying the moment as she finished typing. She flipped the phone around, showing Satoru the screen.

His cerulean. eyes zeroed in on the contact name: Utahime–senpai. Then, underneath, a simple message: Eh? Hm…..Yuki–senpai asked them one time, and Yuki-senpai said that they answered Norika Fujiwara—that’s our senpai’s type, which bummed Yuki-senpai. She's not senpai's type.’

"Yuki-senpai, the special grade abroad?"

"I guess so." Shoko retorted back to Suguru. "Apparently she and our senpai's close."

"Hm, that makes sense." Suguru nodded back at his friend. "Huh, I never expected that senpai would be into women. Good for them."

"Right?" Shoko grinned back at the long haired sorcerer. "Women are the best!"

For a moment, Satoru just stared, processing the information. "Wait, Norika Fujiwara? That’s…" 

"Yup." Shoko said, her grin widening as she leaned back, clearly amused by his reaction.

Satoru’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. "Our senpai… is into women?"

Shoko chuckled as Suguru shot her a mildly disapproving look, but even he couldn't suppress a small smile.  "You know, this makes sense now. Kyoto High has K-1 events on their TV. And Norika Fujiwara's on the programs sometimes."

"Heh, you're right!" Shoko grins at her friend. "I wonder if they only watch for Noriko Fujiwara."

"I don't think our Senpai's that shallow, Shoko."

"Well anyway, you did say you wanted to know more about them." Shoko said, putting her phone away. She raised her thumb up for Satoru. “Now you do!”

Satoru was stunned. He had always respected you as a powerful and composed figure, but somehow this revelation made you even more intriguing in his eyes. "Wow… just when I thought I couldn’t admire them more. They're becoming cooler by the day. You guys don't understand!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head at the whole exchange. "Satoru, you really are something else."

"Hey, I’m just appreciating my senpai!" Satoru shot back, but his tone was lighter now, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

Shoko smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Well, now you know. Just don’t let it go to your head."

Satoru nodded, but it was clear from his expression that this little tidbit of knowledge had only deepened the enigma that you were to him. Because he couldn't help it, when it came to you. He couldn't help but want to know more.

He stood up, trying to open his canned soda and sighed. He thinks he feels faint. But maybe, just maybe, its the weather. He feels unwell, somhow. Gojo Satoru sighed. He should sleep more.

THE AUTUMN LEAVES MARKED YOUR ARRIVAL. The next few days saw you at Jujutsu High, filing a report about a recent mission in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The mission had gone smoothly, but there was something about the activity at a nearby temple that piqued your interest, so you planned to stay on campus all day before heading out to investigate.

Satoru had been unusually quiet since your arrival. He watched you from a distance, his usual playful banter replaced by a thoughtful silence. He still hadn’t figured out how to bring up what he’d learned about you—how could he, when the revelation had left him so distracted?

By the time you suggested sparring, hoping to shake off the tension in the air, Satoru seemed eager to agree. The two of you moved through the training area, exchanging blows with a familiarity that spoke of years of experience. But something was off. Satoru wasn’t as sharp as usual; his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You took advantage of the momentary lapse in his concentration. In a quick, fluid motion, you downed him, pinning him to the ground with a sigh. He groaned, feeling the ground and gravel against his face.

"You’re stupid to let me have a shot at downing you, Gojo-kun." you muttered, shaking your head. “That was a rookie mistake.”

Satoru blinked up at you, startled by your words, before realizing his mistake. He had let his guard down completely. He sighed, a rare admission of fault slipping past his lips. "Yeah, sorry. I’m just… distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, still holding him in place. "Distracted? What's going on, Gojo-kun? Is it about a mission or something to do with the jujutsu you’re working on?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss, but this was different. His thoughts were clouded by what he had discovered, and now, faced with you directly, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally, he decided to dodge, just a little. 

"It’s nothing serious. Just something on my mind that I can’t quite shake."

You narrowed your eyes, clearly not convinced but deciding to let it slide for the moment. You released him, standing up and offering a hand to help him up. "Well, whatever it is, don’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t afford to be distracted out there."

Satoru took your hand and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, senpai."

You studied him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something was off but choosing not to press further. "Just remember, Gojo-kun—whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here if you need anything."

He nodded again, appreciating your offer but still unsure how to approach the topic of what he’d learned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With that, the two of you continued your sparring session, but Satoru's thoughts remained tangled. The revelation had stirred something in him, and he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever. But for now, he would focus on the task at hand, trying to push the distraction aside until he could find the right moment—and the right words—to bring it up with you.

You cracked open your canned soda, the familiar hiss of carbonation filling the quiet evening air. Taking a sip, you glanced at Satoru, who was fiddling with his own sweet drink, clearly still wrestling with his thoughts. You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you now a thing of the past.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“.........What’s your type?”

You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?”

“I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much, really. Pretty face, pretty lady. But I have to say, Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—”

You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

He blushes, almost embarrassed as you shake your head at him. “......Is it bad?”

“Hm, not at all.” You snickered at him. “You’re just curious. But I now have a question!”

“Y–yes, senpai?”

“Was it Mei–Mei or Utahime?”

“!?” His face was priceless. It was as though he was a child who had just been caught stealing cookies during the night in the kitchen.

"Ah, Shoko must have asked Utahime." you began, the amusement evident in your voice, "Man, that girl has a big fat crush on Shoko, doesn’t she? She just gave up easily. At least with Mei–Mei, it will be a good five million yen.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on opening his drink. His silence spoke volumes, and you chuckled once more with a softer essence, shaking your head. 

“Well, it’s not like I’m hiding anything.” You tout, sighing as you look at him. “But I guess that I’m not as obvious as they come, I suppose.”

Taking another sip, you continued, "I do like Fujiwara Norika. She’s my type of woman. Looking back at it now, she reminds me of someone I dated once. And I think that makes Yuki-chan feel like she has to dye her hair brown now."

Satoru froze mid-sip, and the next thing you knew, he was sputtering, spitting out his drink in surprise. "You… you dated before?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Do...do I know them?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m older than you by a couple of years, you know? And it wasn’t really a secret....Hm.....Would you know? I don't think you liked anyone else from the other clans. But I guess in a way, it doesn't matter, you know?”

Satoru stared at you, still processing what you had said, but then he noticed the brief flicker of sadness that crossed your face, even when you try to laugh it off. It was subtle, barely there, but for someone as perceptive as Satoru, it was impossible to miss. His usual playful demeanor softened, and he watched you carefully, sensing that there was more to the story.

You sighed, looking out at the horizon, your voice quieter now. "I loved someone a long time ago, Gojo. And it broke my heart when she left. But that’s over now.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, and for once, Satoru didn’t know what to say. He could see the pain in your eyes, a pain that was buried deep but still lingered, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

"But, Gojo-kun....you know…." you continued, your voice growing steadier, "I didn’t love her because she was a woman. Or that she looked like Fujiwara Noriko. Even if that's what others believed. I loved her because she brought me to life."

Satoru was silent, absorbing what you had just shared. He could see now that your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself, had been shaped by experiences that ran deep—experiences that he had never even guessed at.

You turned to him with a genuine smile. "People like us have the rarity of that, don't you think? Not has the shot to be brought to life by love." 

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows around you. Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I’m sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s alright, Gojo-kun. You didn't upset me at all. It’s part of life, part of who I am. And you asked properly. It was right to be honest. Besides, what makes us human if we don't carry our own stories with us, don’t we?"

Satoru nodded slowly, feeling a new sense of respect for you. He had always admired your strength, but now he understood that it wasn’t just about power or skill. It was also about the resilience you had built through the pain of loss, through the love that had once lifted you and then left you heartbroken.

"Thanks for telling me, senpai." he finally said, his usual bravado tempered by genuine gratitude.

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "Just remember, Gojo-kun. Your curiosity isn’t a bad thing. But some things take time to understand. Don’t be in such a hurry to know everything all at once. Even about me. Just….just enjoy things little by little.”

He smiled, a small, thoughtful smile that showed he was taking your words to heart. "I’ll try to remember that."

You leaned closer to him and let your palm pat his head. He gasped, looking up to you as he nearly dropped his soda. You laugh. “Aren’t you my cute, curious and dependable kouhai, Gojo Satoru!”

Gojo Satoru felt his ears turn red as much as his body. He lowered his head, enjoying your touch on his hair. Gentle and yet tenderly comforting all at once. He wished you didn’t have this much of an effect on him. But he supposed that he knew that he’s not good like that when it comes to you. 

With that, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, sipping your drinks as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight. It was a rare, quiet moment between two powerful sorcerers, a moment where the weight of your shared experiences brought you closer together, not just as comrades, but as individuals who had lived, loved, and lost in the ever-unforgiving world of jujutsu.

January 2006

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ITS NEW YEAR AGAIN.The cold Kyoto air was crisp as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara made their way up the steps to your family’s ancestral Mikoto temple in the heart of Kyoto. The New Year had come fast approaching, and while you had insisted they didn’t need to make the trip all the way to Kyoto just for you, Gojo Satoru had been adamant to see you. As he always was. He was just that sort of young man.

Satoru's enthusiasm for joining you at the temple for New Year's was palpable, his childlike pout accentuating just how much he wanted to be there. Despite your logical protests about the cold and the crowd, Satoru seemed undeterred, his energy almost infectious.

“It’ll be too crowded, Gojo-kun.” you said with a raised brow, trying to keep a firm stance on your decision. “And not to mention too cold. Just stay in Tokyo.”

But Satoru wasn't one to give up easily, especially not when it came to spending time with you. He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made you sigh in exasperation. “Ehhhhhh, I don’t want to.” His voice was a playful whine. “Come on, senpai! Me being there would make it all fun.”

Suguru, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in from beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’re going to be there too, Satoru.” he pointed out, his tone laced with subtle amusement. “Are we just chopped liver to you?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, snickered at the exchange. “When it comes to our senpai, that big baby is going to be thinking about him.”

Satoru’s indignant protest was immediate. “Hey, I’m not a big baby!”

Before you could respond, Haibara’s grin lit up the conversation. “I’ll go too! I think it would be fun to see how Bishamon temples do festivals.”

Nanami, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I don’t.” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face with a resigned air. “It would be too cold. And I don’t wanna get a cold.”

"Hey! You'll offend senpai like that!" Haibara pouted at Kento.

Nanami Kento turned to you with a blank face. "Does it offend you, senpai?"

"Not at all." You grinned at him.

"See, they don't mind."

"Huh!? But I do!" Gojo Satoru retorted back. "You're going, Nanami!"

"I don't wanna."

"No, you're going!"

"Satoru, don't be so loud."

"But Suguboo!"

"I can't believe I'm stuck with all of you." Shoko huffed, cigarette smooke coming out of her mouth.

Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of all of them wanting to be with you for the New Year. It was going to be a lively celebration, that much was certain. Even after many times you’ve told them to not go, they still told you they were going. And sure enough, it was too cold all the way around. 

Nanami sighed, adjusting the scarf around his neck as they neared the temple gates. "This is ridiculous. We could have celebrated in Tokyo."

Haibara, ever the optimist, smiled brightly at his friend. "Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m sure everything will be well. It’s New Year’s day, after all. We should be celebrating together."

As they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by the sight of Kusakabe and Utahime already there, standing near the entrance of the temple. Iori Utahime was wrapped in a thick coat, her breath visible in the chilly air. Beside her, Kusakabe Atsuya was typing away on his flip phone. When Utahime spotted Satoru, her expression immediately shifted to one of irritation.

"Why are you here, Gojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

Satoru grinned at her, his usual carefree attitude on full display. "Because I’m your favorite kouhai, of course!" he replied, his tone teasing as ever. “Aren’t you happy? To be graced by my presence, Utahime?”

Utahime’s eye twitched in irritation, and she started towards him, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could get too close, Kusakabe quickly stepped in, gently pulling her back. Everyone was looking at them but none of that mattered to Gojo Satoru who continued to grin at his elder.

"Utahime, let it go. It’s New Year’s day!" he urged, trying to keep the peace. “Senpai’s also here, we can’t cause headaches for them!”

"But he—!" Utahime began, only to be cut off by Kusakabe, who was already steering her towards the temple entrance, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Satoru just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d gotten out of her. "She’s so easy to rile up." he said to Suguru, who merely shook his head with a smirk.

Shoko, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, nudged Satoru. "Maybe try not to annoy everyone before the night even begins." she suggested, though there was little bite to her words. “Utahime, don’t mind him.”

"Where’s the fun in that?" Satoru quipped, but he did ease off, his attention shifting to the temple grounds. He leaned towards Shoko. “Heh, love sick.”

Shoko slapped his arm. He flinched and groaned in pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You emerged from the temple just as they were finishing up their banter, surprised to see so many familiar faces. "I thought I told you guys not to bother coming all the way out here." you said, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your tone. It was clear you were happy to see them, despite your earlier protests. “It’s very busy here, I didn’t want you guys to suffer waiting.”

Satoru stepped forward, handing you a small package wrapped in festive paper. "No way we were letting you celebrate alone, senpai! Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper New Year without you. Or me. Together.”

“Heh, love sick.” Suguru snickered lowly.

“Shut up!” Satoru slapped his arm. 

You accepted the gift with a smile, though your gaze softened at the sight of them all gathered together. "I appreciate it. Truly.”

Nanami, still grumbling under his breath, finally spoke up. "Next year, we’re doing this in Tokyo."

Haibara laughed, patting Nanami on the back. "We’ll see about that, Nanami. For now, let’s just enjoy the night."

As the group made their way inside, the temple's warm glow and the smell of incense welcomed them. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as they prepared to ring in the New Year together. Despite the long journey and the cold, it was clear that none of them would have wanted to be anywhere else.

You ushered everyone inside the temple, the warmth from the lit braziers immediately driving away the chill of the winter night. The monks at the temple were handing out hot drinks to keep warm. Nanami took two, as the others enjoyed one. Satoru thinks that it was sweet plum tea, but it’s not sweet enough for him.

The temple’s interior was adorned with traditional New Year’s decorations—pine branches, plum blossoms, and bamboo, all carefully arranged to welcome the coming year.  Gojo Satoru was often here as a child, being a descendant of Hiromi.

He can pinpoint the places he had studied with his Mikoto teachers. But he has never seen it in this way, with all its vibrant decorations. He supposed that he was always celebrating New Years at those boring clan parties. 

The air was thick with the fragrant scent of incense, and the sound of gentle chanting echoed softly through the corridors. The bells rang as people prayed in front of the statue of Bishamon. The line was the longest he had ever seen, probably longer than when he buys new Digimon merchandise. But he supposed that it would be the case. The Hiromi Shrine was the most popular of the Bishamon worship shrines in Kyoto, especially because of the performances.

"Make yourselves comfortable." you told them with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. I have to prepare for the dance offering to Bishamon. It’s a tradition I have to lead."

“Heh, you dance, senpai?” Shoko questioned, drinking her plum tea. “Just like Utahime.”

You smiled back at her. “Hm. I’m a priestess in Mikoto shrines also. Bishamon likes being praised, after all. So, it is part of our duty.”

“Your dancing has always been immaculate, senpai.” Utahime cheered as she looked towards you. “Graceful as always.”

“Does this mean you know this?” Suguru turned to Satoru with a curious face. “You have common ancestry with that, don’t you?”

“I was taught, but I wasn’t allowed to perform it.” Satoru retorted back, fixing his glasses. “I’m still a Gojo, you know?”

“I’ll be going now.” You tell them, fixing the pleats on your haori. “I still have to change clothing.”

“Good luck, senpai!” Haibara says, clapping his hands. Nanami mumbled the same but in a lower tone.

You giggled. “You have my thanks. Enjoy the show, okay?”

The group nodded in silent agreement, their eyes following your form as you disappeared deeper into the temple. The faint sound of your footsteps echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hushed serenity of the sacred space. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind you, a soft thud resonated through the air, leaving them standing in the warm, golden glow of the temple's main hall.

The ancient architecture loomed around them, exuding an aura of timelessness and reverence. Flickering candles cast gentle, dancing shadows across the polished floors, while the subtle scent of incense hung in the air, intertwining with the soft murmur of distant prayers. It was a place where the divine felt near, a sanctuary where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sacred atmosphere to envelop them.

Each of them felt the weight of the temple’s history, the centuries of devotion embedded in its very walls. Here, in this tranquil space, they were reminded of the depth of their connection to you, and the unspoken bond that drew them all together, even in the quietest of moments.

Satoru leaned against a pillar, his eyes following the path you had taken. "This is a big deal." he said, breaking the silence. "The dance offered to Bishamon isn’t just for show. It’s a prayer for protection, strength, and victory in the coming year. As descendants of the Hiromi clan, it has to be taken with care and concentration.”

Shoko, intrigued, glanced at him. "So you know all about this, then? In great detail."

Satoru shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, I’ve seen it done before, in the Mikoto household. But senpai… they’ve always taken it to another level. They’re the real deal when it comes to this tradition."

Suguru nodded thoughtfully, glancing around at the intricate decorations. "It’s rare to see someone so deeply connected to their heritage like this. It’s impressive."

Nanami, still somewhat grumpy from the trip, nevertheless looked interested. "It must be a lot of pressure, carrying on such an important tradition."

"It is. She’s the only third one to hold Hiromi’s cursed technique. So she’s held in high regard." Satoru agreed, his gaze still fixed on the doors you had disappeared through. "But senpai handles it like it’s nothing. That’s just how they are."

As they talked, the soft sounds of preparations being made drifted through the temple. The atmosphere grew more reverent, the chatter fading into a respectful silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the doors finally opened again, they all turned to look. You emerged, dressed in the finest Heian-era clothing, each layer of silk and brocade meticulously arranged. The colors were vibrant, yet harmonious, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into the ensemble. Your hair was styled in the traditional manner, adorned with delicate ornaments that caught the light as you moved.

The group fell silent, their eyes drawn to you as you approached the altar. Gojo Satoru felt his breath catch in his throat, completely awe-struck. He had seen you in combat, had witnessed your strength and skill countless times, but this was different. This was a side of you he had never truly seen before—regal, composed, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

As you took your place before the altar, the room seemed to hold its breath. The flickering candlelight reflected off the golden statue of Bishamon, the god of war and warriors, who stood as the protector of the temple. You began to dance, your movements slow and deliberate, each gesture a prayer offered up to the deity.

The bells chimed softly in time with your steps, the melody hauntingly beautiful. The sleeves of your kimono floated gracefully through the air, and the rhythm of your movements told a story of reverence, dedication, and unbroken tradition. Every step, every turn, was imbued with a power that transcended the physical, connecting the past with the present, the divine with the mortal.

Satoru was mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an expression of deep respect and admiration. He had always known you were special, but seeing you like this—fully embracing your role as a descendant of the Hiromi clan, leading this sacred ritual with such grace and authority—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

As the dance continued, the room seemed to glow with a warmth that went beyond the physical. It was as if the very spirit of the temple had come alive, watching over the ritual with benevolent eyes. The other sorcerers watched in respectful silence, each of them feeling the weight of the moment, understanding that they were witnessing something truly sacred.

When the dance finally came to an end, you stood before the altar, hands folded in a final gesture of prayer. The room was silent, the only sound was the soft crackling of the braziers. Then, slowly, you turned to face your audience, your expression calm and serene.

The group remained silent, each of them still processing what they had just witnessed. Satoru, however, couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He had always known you were extraordinary, but tonight, that belief had been solidified in a way he hadn’t expected.

As you stepped down from the altar, Satoru caught your eye, and for a brief moment, there was an understanding between you—something that didn’t need to be spoken. It was in the quiet awe in his gaze, in the way he nodded slightly, acknowledging what you had just done.

"That was… amazing." Shoko finally said, breaking the silence, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Right?” Utahime grinned from ear to ear. “Senpai’s been practicing this for months!”

“I always wondered how they have the time to do all this.” Kusakabe whispered under his breath. “That was just….amazing.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, a rare look of respect on his usually calm face. "Yeah. Truly."

Nanami, who had been skeptical about the whole thing, couldn’t help but nod as well. "I can see why this tradition is so important."

Haibara, always the optimist, beamed at you. "You were incredible, senpai!"

You smiled softly, bowing your head in thanks. "Thank you. I’m glad you could all be here to witness it. It means a lot to me."

As the night continued, the group moved on to the other festivities, but Satoru remained quiet, still caught up in the image of you dancing under the temple’s sacred light. He knew he would never forget this New Year, nor the way you had shown them all the true depth of your heritage and strength.

As the night wore on, the temple grounds gradually filled with the sounds of celebration. The solemnity of the ritual had given way to a more festive atmosphere, with laughter and chatter echoing off the ancient stone walls. The group of sorcerers mingled, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the small fires that had been lit to stave off the winter chill.

Satoru, however, found himself oddly quiet amidst the festivities. He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze often drifting back to where you were, speaking with Utahime and Kusakabe near the shrine. The image of you during the dance was still fresh in his mind, replaying over and over again like a scene from a film.

He had always admired you—respected you, even. You were his dependable senpai, someone who had taught him much, someone who had always been there. But tonight, something had shifted.

The way you had moved, the way you had commanded the space during the ritual, had revealed a side of you that he hadn’t fully grasped before. It wasn’t just about strength or skill. It was about who you were at your core—a person deeply connected to your heritage, someone who carried the weight of tradition with grace and dignity.

As he watched you now, a realization began to creep up on him, one that he hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t just admiration he felt. There was something more—something deeper that made his heart beat a little faster, made him more aware of your every movement, every word. 

It hit him all at once, like a sudden gust of wind that took his breath away. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one who was always so sure of himself, found himself completely and utterly disarmed by this newfound awareness.

He liked you. A lot. More than he hoped.

The thought was startling, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. Love wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to—his life was too chaotic, too filled with danger and responsibility. But standing here, watching you laugh with the others, he couldn’t deny it. It was there, unmistakable and undeniable, a feeling that had been building without him even realizing it.

Shoko noticed his distant expression and wandered over, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve been quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Satoru blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glanced at Shoko, then back at you, still trying to process what he had just figured out. "Just… thinking." he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "That’s a first. What about?"

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Senpai."

Shoko followed his gaze and immediately understood. Her usual smirk softened into something more genuine. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I think I do."

Shoko didn’t tease him this time. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on you. "You know, it’s not surprising. They’re… special."

"Yeah." Satoru agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving you. "They really are."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and something he wasn’t quite sure how to name. Love was a powerful thing, and for someone like him, it was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he watched you smile, saw the way you interacted with the people around you, he knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, whatever he had to face because of this realization, he was ready for it. Because this feeling, this love—he knew it was worth it.

"Guess I’ve got some things to figure out," he muttered, more to himself than to Shoko.

She chuckled softly. "You’ll manage. You always do."

Satoru smiled, feeling a little more grounded. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this newfound love, but for now, just knowing it, acknowledging it, was enough. The night was still young, and there was time—time to enjoy this moment, time to figure out what to do next.

As the celebration continued, he allowed himself to relax, to savor the warmth of the fire and the sound of your laughter. There was no rush. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo was content to just be—content to stand by, to watch, and to let his heart lead him wherever it wanted to go.

February 2010

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS OUT OF HIS LIFE. In the first months after your marriage, Gojo Satoru found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t fully anticipated. Marriage, to him, had always been an abstract concept—something distant and almost inconceivable.

After all, he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who walked a path few could follow, always teetering on the edge of danger. He had grown accustomed to a life where attachments were fleeting, where relationships were superficial at best, and where he never had to worry about being tied down by anything or anyone.

But now, everything had changed. With a simple gold band on his finger, a tangible symbol of a bond he never thought he’d have, Satoru realized he was in completely unfamiliar territory. The weight of that ring was more than just the metal—it was the responsibility, the commitment, and the vulnerability that came with it.

In those early days, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, his hand subconsciously reaching out to make sure you were still there, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream. He’d never been one to fear anything, but the thought of losing you, of this newfound connection slipping through his fingers, sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process—a mixture of fear and protectiveness, of love and uncertainty.

Satoru had always prided himself on being in control, of being able to predict and outmaneuver any threat. But this—this was different. Loving you, being married to you, was something he couldn’t strategize his way through. There were no enemies to defeat, no curses to exorcize, just the simple, profound reality of sharing his life with someone else. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

He’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening in a way that was so unlike the confident, cocky sorcerer everyone knew. He marveled at how easily you fit into his life, how you managed to break through the walls he had built up over the years. The way you understood him, the way you didn’t flinch in the face of his power or his occasional bouts of arrogance—it was as if you had always been meant to be there, by his side, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

But with that grounding came a vulnerability that Satoru wasn’t used to. He was no longer just the strongest sorcerer—he was your husband, a role that demanded a different kind of strength, one that he was still learning to wield. The idea of being responsible for someone else’s happiness, of being someone you could rely on, made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. Could he really be the partner you deserved? Could he protect you not just from the dangers of the world, but from his own flaws and insecurities?

These questions haunted him in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you. He was used to facing challenges head-on, but this was different. This was about being present, being open, being honest—things that didn’t come naturally to him. And yet, despite the doubts and the fears, there was something about being with you that made him want to try, to be better, to grow into the role he never thought he’d take on.

As the months passed, Satoru began to understand that marriage wasn’t about being perfect, or about having all the answers. It was about the journey you were both on, together, learning and growing with each step.

He realized that it was okay to be unsure, to be afraid, as long as he was willing to face those fears with you by his side. And slowly, he started to let go of the idea that he had to be invincible, that he had to carry the weight of the world on his own. Because now, he had you, and that was a strength unlike anything he had ever known.

He’d never been one to doubt himself, but when it came to you, things were different. There were moments when he would catch himself overthinking, a rarity for him. Did you really want to be married to him, or had circumstances forced your hand? The thought gnawed at him more often than he’d like to admit.

After all, your relationship hadn’t exactly been conventional. You had always been enigmatic, revealing only pieces of yourself when asked, keeping much of your life private. Even when Satoru confessed his feelings, he wasn’t entirely sure how you felt. You accepted his proposal, but he couldn’t shake the lingering suspicion that you might have done so out of obligation or to avoid being entangled with the Zen’in clan—a fate worse than anything he could imagine for you.

There were nights when he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of your shared room, trying to figure out how to navigate this new reality. He loved you—he knew that much. But he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had simply chosen the lesser of two evils, and he was the one left trying to make sense of it all.

Satoru wasn’t used to feeling insecure. He was used to being in control, always confident in his abilities and decisions. But with you, everything was different. You were his equal in so many ways—strong, intelligent, capable—but you were also someone he couldn’t quite read, someone who could keep secrets even from him.

One evening, as you both sat in the quiet of your home, Satoru couldn’t keep it in any longer. You were sipping tea, looking as serene as ever, while he fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically restless.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “When we got married… Did you… I mean, did you want to?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—sometimes I wonder if you did it because you really wanted to or because it was… the better option. Better than being forced into something with the Zen'in clan.”

You set your tea down, regarding him carefully. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“Satoru…..” you began, your voice steady, “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t have the kind of love story that most people dream of. My life was never about fairy tales or perfect endings. And yes, part of me did see our marriage as a way to avoid a fate I didn’t want.” You squeezed his hand, your gaze never leaving his. “But that’s not the only reason I said yes.”

His breath caught as he listened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. “Then what made you say yes, to me being your husband?”

“I said yes because I trust you.” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “I trust you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before. And… I wanted to see where that could lead. I may not have been in love with you when we first got married, but I knew there was potential for something real between us. Something worth exploring.”

Satoru’s heart swelled at your words, but there was still a part of him that needed to know more. “And now?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel now?”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached your eyes. “Now? I don’t regret it for a second. You’ve become someone I care about deeply, someone I respect and… yes, someone I can truly….deeply love.”

The relief that washed over Satoru was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he had to hear those words until you spoke them. He knew that maybe you felt them, maybe you shared his feelings, his understanding. But to hear them? That’s a whole different thing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his usual confidence beginning to return.

“Good….good.” he murmured, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Because I really, really care deeply for you, and maybe one day…..I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. “I guess we’re both learning how to navigate this together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think we’ll figure it out. After all, we’re together. We can handle anything.”

And in that moment, with you in his arms, Satoru knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them. Because he wasn’t alone—he had you, and that was more than enough.

epilogue

March 2015

It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when everything seemed to align perfectly. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the Gojo household was uncharacteristically quiet. Well, almost quiet. 

Satoru Gojo, the ever-proud husband and now father, was lounging on the couch with a smirk that could light up a room. In front of him stood Megumi and Tsumiki, both of them sporting expressions of mild confusion and curiosity.

Satoru had been waiting for this moment—when the kids would finally ask about the somewhat mysterious nature of his marriage to you. And now, with Satoshi—a tiny bundle of energy strapped to Satoru’s chest in a baby carrier—he was more than ready to provide an answer.

“So, how did you and Gen–san end up married?” Tsumiki asked, her tone innocent but her eyes sharp, clearly expecting an interesting story.

Megumi, ever the skeptic, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense. You’re you… and they’re… well, them.”

Satoru grinned, patting Satoshi’s back gently as the baby cooed happily in the carrier. “Why, that’s easy! It’s because they love me!” 

The room went silent for a moment as Megumi and Tsumiki processed Satoru’s answer. The stillness hung in the air, almost as if time itself had paused. Then, Megumi rolled his eyes in that exasperated way he often did, clearly unimpressed by whatever explanation Satoru had given this time. Tsumiki, on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter light and infectious, breaking the tension with ease.

Little Satoshi, cradled comfortably against Satoru’s chest, joined in with his own soft laughter, the sound a mix of pure joy and innocence. His tiny hands clutched at Satoru’s shirt, his laughter causing his small body to wiggle slightly in his father’s arms.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the chorus of reactions around him. For a brief second, he looked almost confused, as if he hadn’t quite expected that response. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening his usual cocky expression. In that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

“That can’t be the whole story.” Megumi muttered, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s self-satisfied grin. “I won’t believe Gen–san falling in love with you like that.”

Tsumiki leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Satoru–san, there has to be more to it than that.”

Satoru chuckled, his trademark grin still plastered on his face. “Well, if you must know, it all started with my irresistible charm. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this face?” He pointed to himself, looking ridiculously smug.

Satoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands, making the whole scenSatoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands with pure delight. The sound of his laughter, so innocent and full of life, echoed through the room, adding to the already absurd scene. His bright eyes sparkled as he looked up at Satoru, clearly enjoying the attention and the light-hearted atmosphere.

Satoru’s smile grew wider as he watched his son, the absurdity of the moment not lost on him. The combination of Megumi’s eye roll, Tsumiki’s giggles, and Satoshi’s adorable antics made the whole situation feel almost surreal—like a snapshot of a life he had never imagined for himself, yet couldn’t imagine living without now.e even more absurd. Life was great, he thinks. No matter what happened before.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples as if dealing with Satoru was giving him a headache. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you!” Satoru responded cheerfully, clearly missing—or ignoring—the point.

Tsumiki, always the more patient of the two, tried again. “But really, what made you two decide to get married? Was it some big romantic gesture?”

Satoru paused, his grin softening as he thought back to the moments leading up to your marriage. “It wasn’t really like that,’miki.” he said, his tone more genuine now. “It was more… complicated. But in the end, we realized we wanted to be together. And so we made it happen.”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchanged a look, sensing there was more to the story than Satoru was letting on. That doesn’t seem to be how you told the story. You were more straightforward than your husband, but Satoru got the complicated right. Nothing about the story was ever simple. But now that you are here, nearly five years later. What is complicated to a whole lifetime of happiness?

“And then they fell head over heels in love with me!” Satoru added quickly, not wanting to lose the lightheartedness of the moment. “Then bam! You guys came into our lives and made more love grow! Like kabam!”

Tsumiki laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof, Satoru-san.”

“Maybe I am, ‘miki!” Satoru replied, his grin returning full force. “But I’m their goof, and that’s all that matters.”

Megumi sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess if they can put up with you, that says something.”

Satoru beamed, clearly taking that as a compliment. “Exactly! Now, who wants ice cream? Satoshi here has a craving.”

As if on cue, Satoshi babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching up toward Satoru’s face, his little fingers grasping at the air as he tried to touch his father. Satoru leaned down slightly, letting Satoshi’s hands brush against his cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the child’s excitement.

Tsumiki giggled at the sight, her amusement evident. “I think that’s just you, Satoru-san,” she teased, her tone playful.

Satoru shrugged, completely unbothered by the light jab. “Well, Satoshi is my son,” he declared with a grin, gently nuzzling his cheek against Satoshi’s tiny hand. “My little dawn, my copycat! He’s bound to inherit my great taste in sweets!” 

His words were met with another round of giggles from Tsumiki, while Satoshi, as if understanding his father’s pride, continued to babble cheerfully, his joy infectious and filling the room with warmth. You finally came around the corner, fully dressed to go out for the day. You grinned at everyone.

“My love! Woah, you look dashingly extraordinarily fantastically—”

“Satoru.” You giggled, looking into his deep cerulean eyes. Full of love, full of wonder— for you. “Your compliments don’t have to be that long, baby.”

“Huh!? But how will the world know how much I love my beloved?”

You smiled, walking over to him. You placed a kiss on Satoshi’s massive cheeks, eliciting him to laugh. Then you looked at your husband and leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He smiled against your lips, enjoying the touch of your lips against his own. When you parted lips, he looked dazed with love for you.

“New lip gloss?” He asked you, grinning. “It’s more fruity than before.”

“Do you love it?”

He grinned harder. “I do!”

“Ugh, married people.” Megumi gagged, looking at the two of you. 

Tsumiki swooned with a smile on her face. “Ah, married people.”

With that, the conversation shifted to plans for an impromptu ice cream outing, and any lingering questions about your marriage to Satoru were put on hold—at least for now. Sweets came first in your family. But as they all headed out the door, there was a sense of contentment in the air, a feeling that whatever the story behind your marriage was, it was something that had brought everyone closer together. And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

As the four of you headed out to the nearest ice cream shop, the lively chatter filled the air. Satoru, as usual, was at the center of attention, effortlessly juggling his roles as the strongest sorcerer, doting father, and husband with a charm that was uniquely his.

Satoshi, snug in his baby carrier, was babbling away, occasionally pulling at Satoru’s white hair, fascinated by its softness. Tsumiki walked beside them, laughing at Satoshi’s antics, while Megumi trailed slightly behind, trying to mask his amusement with an air of indifference.

Once you reached the shop, Satoru wasted no time in ordering a variety of flavors—far more than anyone could reasonably eat. He carried the overflowing tray of cones and cups to a table outside, grinning as he set it down.

“Alright, everyone, dig in!” he announced, looking far too pleased with himself.

Tsumiki eagerly grabbed a rainbow sprinkle cone, and even Megumi couldn’t resist picking out his favorite flavor, chocolate chip. You grabbed pistachio and your husband Satoru took a seat, carefully adjusting Satoshi in his carrier before picking up his own ice cream. He looked around at his little makeshift family, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and contentment.

As they enjoyed their treat, Tsumiki’s curiosity got the better of her again. “Satoru–san, do you think Satoshi will grow up to be like you?”

Satoru smirked, scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. “Well, he’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure,” he said, tapping Satoshi’s nose with a finger. “But as for the rest, who knows? He’s got plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he wants to be.”

Megumi, ever the realist, chimed in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your ego.”

Tsumiki tried to stifle her giggle while Satoru feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “My ego? I prefer to think of it as confidence. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be like me? I’m the complete package!”

“Because they love me!” Tsumiki teased, echoing Satoru’s earlier statement with a playful grin.

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly! See, Tsumiki gets it.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You are too much, Satoru.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Fortunately, yes. I do.”

Megumi shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Despite the banter, it was clear to him how much Satoru cared for you and the life you’d built together. Satoru might joke around, but there was no denying the depth of his feelings, especially when it came to you and Satoshi.

After a while, the conversation turned to other topics—school, upcoming missions, and plans for the weekend. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. As they sat there, laughing and talking, it was easy to forget the pressures of their world, if only for a little while.

Finally, when all the ice cream was gone and Satoshi was starting to get sleepy, they decided to head back home. Satoru, now carrying a drowsy Satoshi in his arms, led the way, still chatting animatedly with Tsumiki and Megumi as they walked. Your shopping bags filled one hand and the other, a matcha drink you so adored.

As they neared your home, Megumi suddenly asked, “So, do you think you guys will want more kids?”

You choked on your drink. You coughed. Megumi looked panicked at your state. You haven’t really thought about more kids. Having Megumi, Tsumiki and Satoshi felt more than enough. Tsumiki handed you a wet wipe, worry evident on her face. She took the matcha drink so you could clean yourself.

“You alright, my love?” Satoru asked, fear in his face. “Megumi, get water!”

Megumi nodded as he rushed off. You cleaned your face from the matcha.“I’m…I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just surprised, that's all.”

Megumi finally came back and handed you water. You smiled at him and drank the water slowly. You thanked the boy, patting his head with your free hand. Satoru took a breath of relief and paused, glancing down at the now peacefully sleeping Satoshi, his expression softening. 

“We don’t know yet, about more kids. We haven’t thought about it yet.” he said thoughtfully. “If that’s something we both want, then why not? After all, I think we make a pretty good team.”

Tsumiki smiled, nudging Megumi. “I think it would be nice if Satoshi had a little brother or sister to play with.”

Megumi, trying to maintain his usual indifferent facade, just shrugged. “As long as Satoru–san doesn’t try to turn them all into mini versions of himself.”

You smiled. “Another version of me would be a change, don’t you think?”

“Satoru–san would spoil them!” Tsumiki grinned. “I would too!”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of them being like me. I don’t want them to be. Everyone’s got to find their own path, right? I just want them to be happy and strong enough to protect what’s important to them.”

He looks at you and grins. “But another version of you I could hold dear and treasure? I would be the happiest man.”

“Simp.” Megumi snickered as you put down the shopping bags. 

As they reached the door, Satoru turned to face them, his grin returning. “And what about it? I’m proud of being a loving husband!”

“What Satoru said, that includes you two as well.” You smiled at Megumi and Tsumiki. “You’re all part of this family now, whether you like it or not. Okay?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting any more ideas.”

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru opened the door, ushering them all inside. “No promises!”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world as the Gojo household settled in for another evening. And as Satoru laid Satoshi down in his crib, watching the tiny baby sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that life, with all its chaos and surprises, had turned out pretty damn good. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it with you, Satoshi, and the rest of the family by his side. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about being the strongest—it was about being loved, and loving in return. And that was something even Satoru Gojo knew he couldn’t do alone.

[macabrebatz]

O, Christmas Tree

(Art the Clown/Reader)

GIF by junkfoodcinemas

Author’s Note: Me? Writing?? In 2024? Who would’ve ever guessed?

Notes/warnings: Fluff, reader has anxiety about living with Art, set in early December, Christmas fluff but it’s not Christmas yet, canon typical violence is briefly mentioned, gender neutral reader, are they roommates or lovers? that’s up to you

Word count: 1,121

Art had always been a strange individual. But for the past week, his behavior had shifted. He stayed in his workshop and had been adamant about keeping you out. It was a normal occurrence for Art to disappear for hours at a time but locking himself away from you was new. And it was concerning.

It was already a miracle that Art hadn’t killed you the second he met you. It was even more of a miracle that you’ve managed to stay alive and at his side for months now. You were thankful that he seemed to take a fascination towards you but this new behavior made you think that your luck might just be running out.

You made your way out of your home and walked towards the workshop. At one point it was merely a detached garage that you used as a glorified storage unit. But when Art came along you figured you’d let him have the building to work in. You weren’t using it anyway. Now it was his space for making all types of nasty weapons.

“Art?” you called out, knocking on the door of his workshop.

You could hear shuffling in the workshop and then silence. You knocked again, quieter than before.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you said.

There was no response, no shuffling. Nothing.

You sighed, turning away from the door. As you began to walk away there was a tiny creak. You turned to see Art sanding at the door, arms crossed with a blank expression on his painted face.

“Art, are you okay? I feel like these past few weeks you’ve been kind of dis-“

You were abruptly stopped. Art’s finger pressed against your lips as he silently shushed you. His blank expression turned into a smiling grin.

You attempted to speak again, but he pressed his finger a bit harder into your lips.

You took the hint, nodding your head. He took his finger away and then took your hand, leading you back into your living room. He gently pushed you down to the couch and gestured for you to close your eyes, putting his hands up to his own face to demonstrate.

You were hesitant. You weren’t too keen on being surprised by Art, because many of his surprises included the missing limbs of people he had killed. Or purposely scaring you. Although you found yourself caring for the clown, living with him in any capacity often came with daily hazards and the occasional heart palpations.

“Ok,” you said, quietly.

You shut your eyes and felt Art grab your hands and bring them up to your face. Whatever he had in store, he really didn’t want you to see it yet.

You heard him walk away and then you were left with silence. Minutes passed and you were beginning to get worried. You were becoming increasingly anxious and nervous, afraid that this was going to be one of those elaborate moments that he suckers you in just to make you jump out of your skin for his amusement. Or even worse…

No, you didn’t want to think about that. Surely if the clown had intended on killing you he would’ve already done it. Yes, surely that was the case.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you heard the sound of something dragging across the hardwood floor of your home. Your mind went to dark places, assuming the worst.

Art was moving around, you could hear him doing something although you had no clue what.

More time passed and you were starting to get stir crazy. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t something that was easily prepared. It was taking so long that you had the urge to whine. The temptation to peek was growing stronger by the minute but you knew better than to look.

“Art, what’s going on?”

You could hear what sounded like metal clanking together and something being stacked. Honestly, you weren’t sure.

Your arms were becoming sore from being in the same position for so long. You could only hope that the wait was going to be worth it.

It had been easily thirty minutes into waiting and you heard the sound of Art walking closer to you. You jumped at the sudden feeling of his hands on yours. He was behind the couch you sat on, his chin rested gently on the top of your head. He slowly moved your hands away from your face. You hesitantly opened your eyes and gasped. One of your hands covered your mouth in disbelief.

In the corner of your living room sat a rather tall black Christmas tree. It was wrapped in sparkly white garland and red ornaments were littered across the branches. Soft white lights were stretching around it, twinkling and illuminating the area. All of that waiting was because Art had been decorating the tree. The sound of metal you heard must’ve been him putting the tree in its stand. And the stacking noises? That could probably be explained by the red and black Christmas presents stacked under the tree.

“Oh my gosh,“ you said, standing up from your spot on the couch.

You couldn’t help but want to take a closer look. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

“You got a Christmas tree? For me?” you asked.

You turned around and another gasp escaped your lips. Art was dressed head to toe in a Santa Claus costume, white hair and all. You had never seen him in anything else other than his clown suit. If he wasn’t in his black and white suit, he would just be naked.

“Art, I don’t know what to say. This is so…sweet,” you said as you walked over to him.

He waved his hand, pretending to make a bashful gesture. It was almost like he was saying, “Oh, this? It’s not that big of a deal.”

But it was to you. Sure, sometimes it felt like you had to walk on eggshells around him. That just came with the territory of being around a murderous clown. But no one had done anything this sweet for you in a very long time.

“Thank you, Art.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled with a big, toothy grin.

“I like this, by the way,” you said, running your hand over the trim of his Santa jacket. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and you giggled.

“By the way, as much as I love this gesture…I sincerely hope there are not any body parts in any of those presents.”

He made another face, almost gleeful.

You could swear you could hear him in your thoughts saying, “You’ll just have to wait to find out.”

[soulshaped]

in moments | spencer reid x reader

a/n: little thing i wrote today maybe intended for longer series, not super edited (sorry hehe). trying to get back into the habit of writing with this new side blog. send me any requests if you'd like <3

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fem reader, use of she/her pronouns (reader), shy!reader, early seasons shy spencer, just pure fluff (for now)

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that the BAU changed when you and Spencer seemingly arrived at their doorstep out of nowhere – both of you young and bright-eyed, but an undeniable force together, a wealth of intelligence. But sometimes – especially in moments like this – the team wondered how either of you managed to function in society up until now. Everyone is watching curiously, trying and failing to hide their amused smiles behind their coffee cups.

You’re nervous. They see it in the way you fiddle with the hem of your sweater behind your back, the way you squeak out your words like you’re afraid of them. If anxiety were personified, it’d look incredibly reminiscent of you. Spencer isn’t any better. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, every inch of exposed skin is visibly tinted with a cherry-red hue, and his eyes continue to fixate on everything, everywhere except your face. 

“How are they even getting anything done right now? They look like they’re both about to throw up,” Emily mutters. 

Morgan nods, “My money is on both of them having nervous breakdowns in the next ten minutes.” 

Penelope tries her very best to swallow her laugh, but her efforts prove to be futile as a giggle manages to escape from her lips anyway. She quickly coughs and covers her mouth with her fingertips in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. Both you and Spencer hear it and glance over with adorably similar facial expressions, brows tightly knitted together and a hint of a pout gracing your lips. 

When you’re only met with silence, you tilt your head questioningly. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, nothing! How is it going over there? Did you guys find anything?” 

“Yeah, actually. Spencer thinks that the Unsub’s location can be narrowed down to these specific neighborhoods given the pattern of…” As you turn to look at Spencer, you realize you’ve made the greatest mistake in your life. It’s as if every possible nerve ending you have in your body surges with electrical current, and you swear you can feel your heart pumping from the middle of your throat. His eyes meet yours, and he’s closer to you than you remember. Was he here the whole time? You have the sudden urge to crawl under the desk and stay there for as long as you can get away with it.

Do his lips always look like this? Has his hair grown out since yesterday? Is he furrowing his brows?

You realize that you haven’t spoken in what must be at least thirty seconds. Spencer would know how long. You feel even worse.  

“Given the patterns in where the victims were found.” you finish quietly. 

Spencer swivels his chair to face the team and continues with his explanation, but you can barely hear him as all of your thoughts focus on the fact that his leg is now pressed up against yours. You’ve come to the natural conclusion that your brain is no longer functional anymore, your career is over. Maybe if you beg on your knees, Hotch will let you take a sick day? 

“Alright, let’s send smaller teams out and cover all possible locations, see what we can find,” Hotch announces from behind you. As he begins assigning pairs, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Now, you’ll have at least a few hours before you have to face Spencer again, and hopefully, by that point, all of the residual awkwardness of your stumble will be completely obliterated from everyone’s memory.

“And (Y/N) and Reid, you’ll take the last of the locations. Let’s debrief here once we’re done.” 

As you stare at Hotch in disbelief, you swear there’s a very, very faint hint of a smile on his face. 

You’re going to kill him. 

~*~*~

Spencer reads through the case file for the millionth time since getting in the car with you. There’s really no point to it; you and everyone else knows he has an eidetic memory, he only had to read it once. If you asked, he’d lie and tell you he does it to pass the time or to just fill the silence with the sound of pages turning. But he thinks he really does it so that he doesn’t have to hear himself stumble over his words trying to talk to you. 

It’s torture, being around you. You’re pretty and smart and nice and so wonderful, and if he thinks about it for too long, it hurts his head. Spencer wants to be around you all of the time and simultaneously none of the time – it’s an unsolvable equation, and he hates it. It’s torturous. 

Even so, he knows his best days are always spent with you. 

Most of your shared time is inevitably spent dissecting the neverending influx of cases received by the BAU. But every once in a while, there are times scattered between the chaos. Sometimes it’s the early mornings before anyone else has arrived, and the both of you drink your coffees together in comfortable silence. Sometimes it’s the late nights spent sitting at your desks across from each other with hot takeout and tired eyes. In these moments, both of you can talk about the books you’ve been reading recently, the best classical music composers, or your favorite episodes of Doctor Who, without any hesitation or uncertainty. Perhaps the delirium of sleep deprivation gives you courage, or maybe it’s just that both of you feel safer in the quiet, when the world feels a lot less overwhelming and all of your focus can be devoted to one another. Regardless, it’s what Spencer looks forward to the most, above all else. 

So, he tries. 

He clears his throat, “D-Did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose?” 

“Really? Huh… I wonder what the origin of the obsession was, y’know where it came from.”

And for just an instant, the anxiety has subsided, quickly replaced by a much stronger, fluttering from the depths of his stomach. 

“Not sure, but sources say that he frequently wrote about noses in his earlier stories, so whatever the cause was must’ve been prior to the 1880s, when Pinocchio was published.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “Have you heard about the Pinocchio Paradox before?”

“The one created by Peter Eldridge-Smith’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I think her name was Veronique. What do you think of the possible solutions?”

While he thinks of an answer to your question, he also thinks about how seamlessly you manage to fit into the fragments of his mind. He’s never felt more seen than when you glance over at him, when you think he can’t see you. You’re perfect in a way that feels whole and complete to him, as if there’s nothing else he could ever want or need. He thinks about all of this, and much, much more. 

~*~*~

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Spencer asks. He begins to rise from his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you though, I think I need a break anyway.” 

It’s late, everyone else has gone home. All of the fluorescent, overhead lights in the bullpen are off, both of you opting to turn on a few of the surrounding desk lamps instead. 

You don’t particularly like the dark, especially when it’s this late into the night. The walk to the kitchen feels a lot longer this way, your path being guided only by the residual light coming from the streetlights outside. 

There’s a sudden crash to your left, and you yelp, jumping towards Spencer. 

“Sorry! Sorry, that was me. I accidentally kicked a box of files I guess someone left on the floor, it knocked into one of the desks.” 

“No worries! It’s okay. I’m just,” you sigh, “I’m just a little bit afraid of the dark.” 

As your adrenaline levels steadily return to baseline, you’re suddenly hyper aware of how your entire body is quite literally pressed up against Spencer’s side, your hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. But just as you start to loosen your death grip, you feel Spencer’s fingers searching for you in the dim moonlight. 

Every thought you’ve ever had, every bit of information you’ve ever learned escapes you in a single breath as he intertwines your fingers with his. 

His voice is just barely above a whisper, “I’m a little bit afraid of the dark too.” 

Both of you walk the rest of the way to the kitchen in complete silence and at an incredibly slow pace, as if even the sound of your soles against the linoleum floors would ruin this moment. You almost want to keep the abrasive lights of the kitchen off as you finally walk through the doorway with Spencer in tow; you know that the very second you flip the switch, you’ll have to let go of his hand. It’s not realistic for him to keep holding your hand, you chastise yourself. How would he even make his coffee if you’re holding his hand hostage?

You turn the light on. The alternative would be standing in the dark and you couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for doing so quickly enough. 

A beat passes, your eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You look down, and to your surprise, Spencer’s still holding onto your hand. Worse, he’s rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. I will never recover from this, you think. 

“D-Do you still want coffee?” 

“No, not really,” you respond. With how your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, you really don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to consume any more caffeine. 

“Me neither,” he trails off. His eyes are glued to the floor as if he’s afraid to meet your gaze, as if it’ll make you realize with sudden clarity that it’s his hand you’re holding and you’ll pull away. 

“As you become drowsier, adenosine accumulates in the neuronal synapse and binds to the respective receptors located in the synapse of specific central nervous systems neurons causing further drowsiness,” you ramble. 

“And caffeine is an adenosine receptor antagonist.”

“Exactly, and knockout mice studies reveal that it’s specifically the adenosine A2A receptor which is a member of the G-protein coupled receptor family.”

“Interesting. Even though you only have one PhD, having it in biology seems to be proving pretty useful,” he smiles. 

“Yeah. I mean, it’s gotten me this far, wait what do you mean only one?”

“Dr. (Y/L/N), you realize I have three, right?” 

“Dr. Reid, please shut up.” 

You make him feel safe. 

“Okay, sorry,” he giggles, “Can you please tell me more about caffeine?” 

And because he asked so nicely, because he smiles at you the way he does, you tell him more. It’s nearly the middle of the night, but you’d still stay up and you would tell him everything you know, as long as he continued looking at you with his soft, brown eyes. 

You both talk about everything and anything either of you think of, all while holding each other in the palm of your hands. 

The next morning, he sits even closer to you. Luckily, it’s slowly getting easier to talk to him without losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, but it’s still hard sometimes. You still get nervous when he looks at you. You can still feel the butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, especially when he holds your hand underneath the desk. 

Both of you think you’re being subtle, but everyone notices. They pretend they don’t.

[cloudinwjns]

haiiii, can I request a really fluffy fluff where minji comforts the reader cause it’s exam season and after the exam just coming home to minji having cuddles and sweet treats, pretty pleaseeeeee. it’s exam season for me and I would kill to have someone comforts me :> thank you smmmm <3

Sorry this took like forever (?) help I feel so guilty but I’ve been super duber busy and all I barely had any time to write but here it is. It’s also exam season for me so I can relate a lot TT thanks for the request and hope your exams went well👏

EXAM AND STRESS

Synopsis: it’s normal to get freaked out right? Especially when it’s exam season and you just couldn’t help but worry about your result for the exams. But what’s there to worry when there’s someone around to comfort you.

Warnings; exams (I do hate exams 💔), worrying, have an unexpected upcoming test next week :( and so sorry it came out so late!!! nothing much but just pure fluff,

It took you by surprise the moment an unexpected exams was announced. Of course you hadn’t prepared at all which makes you think it’s going to be harder than the last time.

Gripping your hair in clear frustration, you glanced around the room noticing the messy and disorganized room which made it uncomfortable for you to read.

You turned on the music, putting it at the highest volume knowing you were in for some deep cleaning.

—

With a loud sigh, you collapsed on the bed feeling yourself melt into the soft plush material. After what seemed like hours, you had finally came to the end of the cleaning.

Setting everything else aside apart from your book, you sat on the floor comfortably eyeing the large book with a slight judging look. God why was the school so wicked? They probably knew that most of you weren’t prepared for the exams and decided to release a statement out of the blue.

Although you knew it was going to be extremely hard you knew you had no choice but to study.

Your whole career depends on this particular exam.

—

You trudged through the front door, your feet heavy with exhaustion. You had just finished the most important exam of your life, and you were still reeling from the experience. Your mind was a jumble of emotions, ranging from anxiety to relief.

As you entered the apartment, you were greeted by the warm smile of your girlfriend, Minji. She was sitting on the couch, her legs tucked under her, and a tray of sweet treats in front of her.

"Hey, baby," she said, her voice soft and soothing. "How did it go?"

You collapsed onto the couch beside her, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. You had been studying for months, and the pressure had been building up to this moment.

"I don't know," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "I feel like I did okay, but I'm not sure. My mind is a blank right now."

Minji nodded sympathetically, her eyes filled with understanding. She knew how much this exam meant to you, and she had been supporting you every step of the way.

"It's okay, baby," she said, taking your hand in hers. "You did your best, and that's all that matters. Now, let's focus on celebrating. I made your favorite treats."

She gestured to the tray in front of her, which was laden with all sorts of sweet goodies. There were cupcakes, brownies, and even a few pieces of fruit.

You couldn't help but smile as you looked at the spread. Minji always knew how to make you feel better, and this was just what you needed after a long and stressful day.

"Thank you, Minji," you said, feeling a surge of gratitude towards her. "You always know how to make me feel better."

Minji smiled, her eyes sparkling with happiness. "That's what girlfriends are for," she said, leaning in to kiss you.

As you kissed her, you felt a wave of tension melt away. You had been so focused on the exam, and now that it was over, you could finally relax.

Minji pulled back, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Now, let's get comfortable," she said, gesturing to the couch.

You nodded, feeling a sense of anticipation build up inside you. You knew that Minji had something special planned, and you couldn't wait to see what it was.

As you settled into the couch, Minji snuggled up beside you, her head on your shoulder. You wrapped your arms around her, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

For a few moments, you just lay there, enjoying the warmth and comfort of Minji's presence. You felt your worries and anxieties melting away, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

As you lay there, Minji started to stroke your hair, her fingers gentle and soothing. You felt your eyes starting to droop, and before you knew it, you were fast asleep.

You slept for a few hours, lulled by the sound of Minji's gentle humming and the warmth of her presence. When you woke up, you felt refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

Minji was still beside you, her eyes closed and a peaceful expression on her face. You smiled, feeling a surge of love and gratitude towards her.

"Thank you, Minji," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Minji's eyes flickered open, and she smiled up at you. "Anytime, baby," she said, her voice soft and gentle.

You leaned in to kiss her, feeling a sense of happiness and contentment wash over you. You knew that no matter what happened with the exam, you had Minji by your side, and that was all that mattered.

[babyleostuff]

UNDER THE MOONLIGHT | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

summary | what can be better than a night stroll with Seungcheol and your daughter Kkuma

genre | fluff

word count | 1.5k

pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader

author’s note | someone please give me a choi seungcheol 🫶🏼

With a sigh you flip the page of your textbook, not even bothering to understand what you have been reading. It has been at least three hours of you sitting in the same position, but your brain stopped comprehending anything at least half an hour ago.

The exam season is just around the corner, but you have never felt less motivated and not only to study - to do anything. Even watching TV felt too tiresome. The fact that your sleeping schedule was shit and you didn’t even bother to make dinner, certainly wasn’t helping.

“I fucking hate this.” you muttered under your breath, flipping the page once again.

“What was that?” asked Seungcheol, who just came into your shared office. Behind him you saw a small, white fluffball that was happily following him.

You didn’t even have to say anything, Seungcheol could clearly see how tired you were and not only physically, but mentally.

The only time he has seen you these past two following weeks were when you came from the library basically at night and during the mornings, when you had to rush out to attend your classes.

He absolutely hated seeing you like this, drained from any happiness and energy, to the point where you couldn't even stand up without tumbling a bit. Seungcheol would do anything just so he could see your bright smile again, but he felt helpless.

Not knowing what to do, he came up behind you and put his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you lightly.

Surrounded by his warmth and comforting scent, you felt like you could start crying any second, so you simply put your cheek to his, to be closer to your love. He responded by hugging you even more tightly, which you didn’t mind at all. It felt like you were wrapped in a warm blanket with all your favorite sweets.

“You know,” he said softly, while tilting your chin in his direction. “I’ll always be there for you and I’m already so proud of you,” he looked deep into your eyes. “But you need to take care of yourself. It is killing me love, seeing you like this.”

You sighed for the hundredth time today, stroking his arm that was still securely wrapped around you.

“I know, but I really need to study for this. I can’t give up now.”

“I’m not telling you to give up, but you still need to take care of yourself. You haven’t eaten even one of my dinners I made for you.” He looked at you with so much care and worry at the same time.

“I’m so sorry Cheol,” you pouted, pecking his jaw.

“There is nothing to be sorry for love, but this doesn’t mean I’m going to let you study yourself to death. You’re going to take a break. Right now.”

„But,” you were interrupted, by his soft lips on yours. You didn’t even have the energy to fight him, so you simply let yourself enjoy this moment.

One hand on your cheek and the other in your hair, you leaned against him to deepen the kiss. It felt like an eternity since you’ve been this close and this reminded you just how safe and protected you felt whenever you were with Seungcheol.

“I love you,” he said, while repeatedly placing featherlight kisses on your lips, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you.

“I love you too, Cheol.” you said, burying your head in his neck and placing kisses there too.

Almost as if she also knew that you needed comfort, Kkuma, who was still laying beside you two, started to nudge her head against your leg.

“See, we’re both worried for you,” Seungcheol chuckled and picked her up, just to place her in your lap. She was always able to put a smile on your face and calm your anxiety down.

Patting her head with one hand, you grabbed Seungcheol’s hand with your other, finally not feeling as miserable as before.

You couldn’t see this, because you were so focused on Kkuma, but your boyfriend had the softest smile ever, looking at you like you were his entire world.

Pecking your temple twice, he gave your hand a little tug to get you up from the chair you’ve been sitting in for the past hours.

“Let’s go out. We can take Kkuma on a walk,” he said, dragging you out of the office.

“But it’s so late and you have a schedule early tomorrow,” you complained, worried about your boyfriend, who probably once again will get no sleep.

“Oh, so now you know how I’ve been feeling these past weeks. Suck it up love, we’re going out,” he said strictly and handed you his hoodie.

“It’s probably cold now,” he muttered to himself and grabbed one of his jackets for you.

“We’re not living at the North Pole, I think you can chill with all of those clothes,” you laughed, but still put on everything he gave you.

“Wha-, oh so now you’re going to complain that I want to take care of you? Do as you wish, go ahead, but don’t complain if you get cold. You can even go with no clothes on, if you dislike mine so much. No problem for me.”

“Cheol, stop sulking so much baby. I was only joking,” you laughed even more, not being able to resist your adorable boyfriend.

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he still sulked, while putting on his shoes angrily.

Knowing what makes him always melt, you came up behind him and wrapped your hands around his middle.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me please?”

“I don’t know, you were being really mean,” he said. “I think I can forgive you if you,” he pointed to his pursed lips.

Shaking your head at your boyfriend's antics you gave him a quick peck and grabbed Kkuma’s collar.

“Hey, I wanted a proper kiss,” he said surprised.

“Well, you didn’t specify what exactly you wanted, so,” you chuckled.

“I hate you.”

“I think you said something about loving me just like what, five minutes ago?”

“Sometimes I really want to strangle you, you’re unbelievable love.”

“Save that for another time Cheollie, let’s go.”

The moment you stepped out of your apartment doors, you silently thanked Seungcheol for all those clothes, because it really was cold.

“So, where do my girls want to go?” he asked and laced your hands together. “Han River?” “Ah, you know us so well,” you smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s go then.”

As the sun set and darkness descended, the city transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of light and shadows.

The first thing that caught your eye was the radiant glow emanating from towering skyscrapers, their windows transformed into a symphony of twinkling lights. The air carried the scent of street food wafting from food carts, which only makes you crave something to eat.

“What do you say about Tteokbokki?” you asked and looked at your boyfriend.

“Ah, you’re reading my mind.” he smiled at you.

Giving you Kkuma’s leash, he walked away to get you both food, and you took this opportunity to take a look around you.

As you looked upward, the night sky became a canvas adorned with stars and a few scattered clouds. The street lamps cast pools of warm, golden light upon the pavement below. The comforting silence is broken only by the occasional hushed footsteps and the distant hum of passing cars. The absence of the daytime chaos allows the sounds of the night to come alive.

“Here you go love,” suddenly Seungcheol breaks you out of your thoughts. You take the food from him and hand him Kkuma’s leash back.

You continue your walk in a comforting silence, munching on your food and smiling at Kkuma from time to time.

The presence of Seungcheol and Kkuma envelopes you in a sense of security, peace, and reassurance and you could almost see all your anxiety and worries disappear.

Finally, arriving at the Han River, you take a seat at one of the benches, your hand still in Seungcheol’s.

“Thank you. I really needed this,” you said, putting your head on his shoulder.

In moments like these, time seems to stand still, as the world fades into the background and almost as if only the two of you existed in this universe. It fills you with a deep sense of gratitude and a reminder of the incredible power of love.

Not saying anything, Seungcheol leans in and places a kiss on your lips.

As your lips meet, there's a delicate meeting of warmth and softness. The kiss is gentle, yet purposeful, carrying an abundance of emotions you can’t express through words.

There's a softness in the way his lips move against yours, as if he’s savoring every second, cherishing the connection that exists between you.

The kiss is unhurried, as if it holds a secret desire to make the moment stretch on forever.

As the kiss lingers and finally comes to an end, there's a soft parting of your lips, a bittersweet separation that carries the promise of so much more to come.

[thewickedjazzy]

Could u do dazai x reader with ocd?

Featuring: Osamu Dazai x gn! ocd reader

Content: sfw, fluff, slightly angst, mention of some swearing words, I believe that's it?,

Author's note: hiiii anon, so sorry for the late response, I swear I was working on it since I received it. I'm also working on all of yall's requests - I'm not sure if you wanted a fic, drabble, or headcanon so I just did a rock paper scissors.

Word count: 1k

❥ Dazai is a smartass, quick witted even, and don't forget that he works at the agency as a detective so of course he will quickly notice how you constantly worry about things going wrong—whether it’s leaving your water bottle uncapped or making a mistake at work. He sees you zoning out at the office, caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, and quickly deduces that it’s more than just everyday stress.

❥ At first, before really getting to know you, he was just a quiet observer. But he never judged, not even once. He’s got his own mental shit to deal with, so he knows how fucked up minds can be. He’d make mental notes of your quirks, just in case he needed to handle them during a mission or whatever.

❥ As he gets to know you better, he figures out how sweet and lovely you are—unlike the twisted side of your mind. It’s like an addiction for him; he craves that balance. He enjoys being friends with someone who has their own dark side, just like he does. Maybe you’ll understand where he's coming from, push him to be a better version of himself.

❥ It’s only after your relationship becomes official that he feels entitled to meddle in your problems. He believes that getting involved in such matters is only appropriate once there’s a solid, established connection between you. Until then, he's just an observer.

❥ You were the one who approached him first, explaining that you have OCD. You felt more anxious than you’d anticipated, having considered telling him many times before but never managing to do so because your mind held you back. He remained calm, and it was only when he revealed that he had known all along that you felt embarrassed. In his typically laid-back manner, Dazai might say, “Oh, I’ve known about your OCD for a while now. You don’t need to be embarrassed—it's actually quite endearing. It doesn’t change a thing between us. We’ll work through it together, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

❥ One day, while on a mission with him and Atsushi, you were deeply focused on analyzing the crime scene. You managed to uncover evidence that even Dazai had missed, piecing together how the victim was killed with remarkable accuracy.

❥ Needless to say that dazai was surprised by how quickly you cracked the complex case. Even after the murderer was arrested, you continued to ramble about additional details, anxiously checking the file in your hand and worrying about missing something, though there was nothing left to find. Eventually he stopped you, gently holding both your wrists. As you looked up, apologising profusely, he simply shushed you, saying, "It's fine. The case is solved, and we’ve caught the murderer."

❥ Atsushi the poor kid he is watched the exchange between you and Dazai with curiosity. When you reluctantly handed him the file with a nod, Atsushi leaned in and whispered to Dazai, asking if you were alright. Dazai simply smiled and replied, "They're just the perfect detective, doing their job flawlessly."

❥ Dazai is surprisingly attentive to your needs when it comes to your OCD. If you’re stuck in a loop of checking something multiple times, he’ll gently steer you away from it by engaging you in conversation or distracting you with a task. He might even playfully mock himself to make you laugh, using humor to ease your anxiety. “Looks like I’ve accidentally left my keys at home for the fifth time this week. Isn’t that a catastrophe?”

❥ If you’re particularly anxious about a big case or an important event, Dazai might surprise you with a comforting gesture. He could leave little notes or small tokens of reassurance in places you’d find them, like a hidden message in your desk drawer or a comforting snack in your bag.

❥ When you’re feeling overwhelmed, Dazai has a knack for knowing when you need space and when you need company. He might give you space to deal with your thoughts but always makes sure you’re not alone. He could show up with your favorite coffee or a calming playlist, knowing just when to intervene.

❥ Dazai might not always express it directly, but he has a deep understanding of how your OCD affects you and often subtly adapts his behavior to support you. He might avoid making sudden movements or loud noises if he knows it could trigger your anxiety. His sensitivity to your needs shows how much he cares.

❥ Dazai would likely offer reassurances in his own, less conventional way. Dazai might not be that sentimental boyfriend but he makes casual but heartfelt statements that affirm his love, such as “You’re the only one who can put up with my nonsense,” or “I can truly be myself with you, without a second thought.”

❥ Dazai would be more mindful of his humor, staying away from jokes or comments that might trigger your OCD. He might use humor in a way that’s supportive and aligns with your sense of comfort rather than distress.

❥ If someone makes fun of you, Dazai would likely handle it with a blend of nonchalance and protective instinct. He might casually brush off the mockery with a witty comment, like, “Oh, they’re just jealous of your intellect,” showing his confidence in you. If needed, he would also step in to defend you.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

[toastnpretzels]

home

relationships: crosshair x reader

masterlist

word count: 733

warnings: angsty, fluff, there's an unexplained relationship between the reader and crosshair, kinda left it up to interpretation whether you think they were together before or if it was just them having feelings for each other.

season 3 episode 4 spoilers

author's note: i have not posted a fic in so long. ive been so busy but that doesnt matter. the new episode had me feeling some type of way so here you go. its kinda short but i didnt want to expand without seeing hunter and wrecker's reaction to crosshair being back.

thank you for any support whether its likes, reblogs, or comments <3

“I had help.”

The last few months had been terrible. From losing Tech and then losing Omega to the empire. Spending everyday looking for her with no success. Nothing was ok. All of us were miserable. Our family was being torn apart and there was nothing we could do about it. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Getting the comm from Omega was one of the best things to ever happen to us, but seeing her running down from the ship was even better. Embracing her, knowing she was safe, felt better than anything had. Things were starting to feel right again. All it took was one hug from Omega.

But then he walked off the cargo ship and everything in my body froze. He looked so different. He had been gone for so long that I thought the feelings had disappeared. Seeing him there, I knew they never were.

I forgot what it was like to be near him. I forgot how my heart sped up and how my head felt dizzy. I forgot how he smelled and how warm he was. I forgot how much I loved him.

-

After Kaller, nothing was ever the same. He wasn’t the same. The chip had changed him. The Empire had changed him.

He let us go on Kamino. The same day you had told him you loved him. On the platform before we left, with tears in my eyes. I told him I loved him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Crosshair, please,” you whispered. He could hear the way your voice was breaking. You couldn’t lose him again.

When he didn’t say anything, you turned to walk away. Typical Crosshair to not say anything. He grabbed your wrist as you started walking.

“I love you.”

You stared at him. Your tears threatened to spill out from his confession.

“But I can’t come with you. You deserve better. This is where I want to be. With the Empire.”

I should have dragged him to the ship. I should have done more. But what more could you do when he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with the Empire.

Why couldn’t he have just came with you that day?

-

No one moved. Everyone was just as shocked to see him. No one knew what he was going to do, how he was going to react. He had tried to kill us before, but he had also let us go. No one trusted him anymore. You chose to remember how he had let us go.

You were the first one to move. Slowly, I stepped out from behind Wrecker. Every step I took towards him was filled with anxiety. It had been too long.

He doesn’t want to see me.

Is he still him?

Why did he come then?

Why would he still be here if he didn’t want to be?

You stopped a few feet in front of him. I could see how tired he looked from where I was standing. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It hurt so much. He had been through so much since Kamino.

What did they do to him?

I couldn’t stand there anymore. I ran the few feet that were left in between us. I wasn’t sure if he would push me away. As I got close to him, I fell right into his arms. I didn’t realize just how much I had missed him until this moment. He wrapped his arms around me in the tightest embrace I’ve ever had. It had been too long since I had felt him. He was safe. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes, so quietly that you barely heard it.

I looked up at him. He had tears that were threatening to spill over. Your heart broke at the look on his face.

“Shh. Not now. Just let me hold you.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity just holding each other. Quiet tears were spiling from both of your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. His arms tightened around you again, as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It would be hard to forgive. Hard for everyone, not just you. So much had happened. But for now, all that mattered was that him and Omega were safe. Omega was home. Crosshair was home.

“I love you too.”

[chrischokeh0ld]

i'm right here, baby - c.s

in which ~ harper attempts to end her life and chris saves her before it's too late (happy ending!)

warnings ~ self harm, ed, death threats, mentions of death, hospitals, needles, anxiety, (whatever triggers)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chris was never a boyfriend who ignored your own thoughts and feelings, instead he'd think your own was better than his.

for example, he said he wanted to have a steak dinner, but that didn't strike your fancy, so he told nick to turn the grill off and save the steak for later.

or, when he didn't want taylor swift but remembered you're a huge fan, so he told matt to turn on "long live"

but today, you thought of the worst.

what if, he was only doing this to make you happy?

no, thats stupid.

scrolling on the comments of your latest instagram post of you and the triplets at the beach, your heart dropped, all filled with "kill yourself ugly bitch" or "i can see your bones"

you've had major body issues since that one kid on playground said you looked like santa claus at 8 years old, after suffering an eating disorder your freshmen year, and the aftermath, familes telling you to gain weight, you did, but they still told you to.

a few days later, the death threats keep on getting worse, you told chris that you could ignore it, but really, you were refusing help, which lead you to sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, looking at your prescripted meds for depression.

you open the orange capsule, looking at the blue 200 mg tablets, wondering,

is it worth it? really?

without heasiation, you consume all of them, at first, you felt fine and stood up,

then blacked out.

chris found your unconscious body and started sobbing, screaming for matt and nick, the hurt in his voice was unbearable, all of their voices at that moment were unbearable.

nick struggles to call the ambulance as he's shaking, matt helps him as chris looks at the orange bottle, with nothing in it now.

the paramedics rush in, taking you away, all three of them quickly follow.

you were rushed in as the doctors hook up the machines, chris couldn't even bare to see his girl like this, thinking of the worst.

the doctors don't know if you're going to make it, by all the pills you've took.

chris cries as the doctors try to console him, he doesn't want to lose his girlfriend, he really doesn't.

the doctors say that they can do life shock to see if you'd wake up.

chris nods, his vision blurry from his tears.

the doctor preforms life shock as chris holds your hand

"c'mon harper..." he mumbles

the room went silent, thinkng you didn't make it

suddenly, your eyes flutter open, IV's in both arms, vitals, heart monitor, breathing tube, what the hell happened?

chris smiles widely as he kisses your head, "baby,"

you regain consciousness, "where, where am i?"

chris takes a deep breath, "you almost died."

hearing that makes your heart drop,

"you scared us baby, i thought you were going to die in front of me."

no words said by you, you move over so he can sit on the bed, you pat a spot for him, and he sits there, carefully wrapping you in his embrace

"i'm sorry.." you choke out

"no no no, don't be sorry, you should've told me sooner though,"

he sighs

"and always remember,"

he leans in and whispers,

"i'm right here baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: tysm for reading! i upload fluff for fun, and i'm planning on making a couple of oneshots.

kiss kiss, makenna

tags!

@24kmar @cherib3lla @bratzforchris

[xmads-omensx]

I'm here

Pt 2 of It’s Okay To Let Go

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,990

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff, comfort, crying, mentions of grief (in the context of a friendship ending), mentions of anxiety and stress

Summary: Noah supports Y/N through a friendship ending

The pain came and went.

I had made the difficult decision to move out of the house I shared with Lily and Jay. It was hard. It broke my heart.

My childhood best friends were no longer going to be a part of my life and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

Emotionally, I had already checked out of that friendship.

They used me.

They lied to me.

They treated me like shit.

Noah had helped me move my essentials into his place. All my clothes now hung up in his closet. My socks, underwear and pyjamas were now neatly folded in his drawers. My shoes took up the rest of his closet space and the shoe rack by the front door.

Jesse and Jolly were more than happy for me to move in.

They said it made Noah less annoying.

Plus, I was the only one who knew how to unblock the dishwasher.

Over the last week that I had been living with them, I had already noticed how much better it was than living with Lily and Jay. They included me. They pulled their weight with chores. I had been sleeping better. I had been laughing more.

It felt like a cinder block had been lifted off of my shoulders.

“I hate to kill the mood.” Noah began. We were curled up on the sofa together re-watching Attack On Titan. “But, when do you want to go get the rest of your stuff? I just don’t like the fact that they have access to your things while you’re not there.”

I sighed.

I had been trying to ignore the fact that I still had to pick up the rest of my things.

I really didn’t want to have to face them.

“I mean, obviously I’ll go with you. Jolly and Jesse can help?” He added.

“Sure.” I sighed. “I guess I may as well get it out of the way.”

“Exactly. And when that’s done, you can just forget about it and move on.” Noah replied, squeezing my shoulder.

“Well, I can’t because I still have to pay the rent. I can’t just move on, Noah. That’s eighteen years of friendship down the fucking drain!” I exclaimed, standing up abruptly from the sofa.

“Baby, I know. I’m sorry. But I’ve already told you that I’ll help you out with that.” Noah said calmly, reaching out his hands to rub my thighs gently.

“But I don’t want you to Noah! I don’t want to be financially in debt to you! What if we break up? Huh? Then you decide that you want your money back? I’m not going to be able to do that.” I shouted, frustrated.

“Don’t you ever say anything like that again. We are not going to break up. I love you. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He said sternly. “And I would never make you pay anything back. If it’s that you’re worried about, I’ll only help you out with half the money. Then you’re still paying something?” He suggested.

I sighed again.

“I just don’t want to think about the money right now.” I said, my eyes beginning to water with frustrated tears.

“That’s completely fine. One thing at a time.” Noah comforted. “Hey, look, it’s almost time for Levi and Kenny to fight.” He exclaimed excitedly, gesturing at the TV.

A small smile appeared on my face as I gave into Noah and curled back into his side.

He pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.

“It’s gonna be okay bub.” Noah murmured into my hair.

I tilted my head slightly to offer him a soft smile, which he returned before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

“I love you.” I replied before nestling my head into his chest and returning my attention back to the TV.

“I love you too.” He whispered.

The next day, we woke up early, around 8:00am, and began to get ready to pick up my things that were still at the ‘Evil House’, as Jesse had dubbed it.

The four of us were heading over in Noah’s car and Jolly’s car to try and shove all of my things in and make a break for it, with the hope that I wouldn’t bump into the ‘two witches’, as Jesse had dubbed them.

I was thankful for Jesse’s ability to find some form of humour in my shitty situation, as it lessened the pain I was feeling slightly.

Initially, Noah had been against Jesse’s jokes, but after seeing that it made me laugh, he began actively encouraging it.

Jolly had helped too, showing me his favourite recipes to cook, his favourite books, and had even began teaching me rude phrases in Swedish simply because it made me laugh.

The task of picking up the rest if my belongings was daunting. Terrifying even.

The chance of me bumping into either of them was high. Neither of them went out much. They didn’t have any friends besides eachother.

Part of me felt guilty for leaving them like that.

But the rest of me felt that they deserved that.

They both deserved eachother.

I hadn’t slept great the night before. Instead, I practiced what I would say to them if I did, in fact, bump into them.

Would I confront them about it? Would I tell a half lie and just say that I was moving in with Noah?

I hadn’t reached a decision yet.

All I knew was that hopefully they would bump into one of the guys and they could handle it. Noah would be too angry at them. Jolly would probably just state that I don’t like them with a deadpan tone and God only knows what Jesse would do.

We piled into our respective cars and began the journey.

Noah and I sat in silence.

No music.

No talking.

Nothing.

I was far too stressed to even entertain a light-hearted conversation with him.

Putting music on would just overstimulate by already racing brain and make me implode.

Noah let me do what I needed to and didn’t try and fill in the silence like the other two would have done. He knew that I needed silence. I needed to mentally prepare for what was about to happen.

We pulled up at the apartment complex with Jolly and Jesse hot on our tail.

The cars were quickly vacated as we all made our way towards the entrance.

We ascended the stairs, still in complete silence. When we reached the door, I hesitated slightly. Was this really happening?

Noah placed his hand on my lower back, letting me know he was there if I needed him. I took a step back and handed him the key. Lily and Jay never liked Noah, so if he went in first and they were there, they wouldn’t interact with us.

The door opened slowly, and we were greeted with silence. They must be in their rooms.

I had checked Life360 on the way over just to see if they were home or not. They were. But I was holding onto hope that they had left.

My heart began to race slightly as the prospect of confrontation crept into my mind.

Noah gently took my hand and led me to my bedroom. The plan was that Jesse and Jolly would handle my section of the kitchen, and Noah and I would take the bedroom and bathroom.

There wasn’t much left in the room that I needed. I was leaving the furniture as that was there when I moved in, but we still had to strip the bed.

The packing itself didn’t take long. We worked in silence. But I was still terrified of bumping into them.

A creaking from the room next to mine startled me. It was Lily’s room.

Noah watched me warily as I dropped the trash bag in my hand onto the bed, spilling spare pillowcases onto the mattress.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I’ll do the talking if she comes in.” Noah reassured me in a hushed tone.

I gave him a grateful look, still hesitating to resume packing.

Noah rounded to my side of the bed, before picking up the trash bag that I was previously holding and putting the spare pillow cases that had fallen out back inside.

After that, we finished bagging up the rest of my possessions. Still not seeing either Lily or Jay emerging out from their respective rooms.

My heart still raced with fear of seeing them despite this.

Once the cars were loaded up, Noah ran back into the apartment to take photos of my bedroom and kitchen area to prove to the lettings agency that I had left it clean and undamaged.

The drive home was also silent, except this time a feeling of relief hung in the air.

Unloading the car was chaotic, but quick.

The guys helped me unpack, with most of it ending up in storage in the garage as it wasn’t stuff that I needed, mainly just spare bedding, winter clothes and things like that.

It was late in the evening when we were finished, and Jesse had ordered all of us takeout to have as a reward for our hard work. Really, I think he just really wanted Mexican food, but wanted a reason to justify it.

By the time it was time for bed, I could barely keep my eyes open, and I could tell that Noah was in a similar position.

We both shrugged off our clothes, Noah crawled into the bed in his boxers and passed me the shirt that he had just taken off, which I then put on and followed him into bed.

Yawning, Noah pulled me close into his chest.

His heartbeat relaxed me, lulling me closer to sleep.

He cared for me so much. It felt abnormal.

How could I take up so much of his heart?

It wasn’t a small thing to help someone else completely pick up and move their entire lives.

But he had instantly put together a plan and helped me without any hesitation.

Completely overwhelmed with emotion, my eyes welled up with tears as I buried my face further into Noah’s chest.

He didn’t say anything, instead simply pulling me closer into him and kissing the top of my head.

“Shh.. Shh.. You’re okay.” He whispered into my hair.

“I- I- I- I don’t know why I’m crying.” I blubbed.

“That’s okay my love. You don’t have to know. Just let it out.” Noah comforted.

“B-but I-I don’t want to cry.” I replied, a sob wracking my body.

“I’ve got you bub.” He whispered, rubbing comforting circles on my back.

We lay like that for a while. Me crying and Noah rubbing my back, offering a kiss to the top of my head every few seconds.

“I just feel empty.” I whispered after my sobs lessened.

“Empty?” Noah whispered back.

“Yeah. Like a part of me is missing.” I sighed.

“They were a huge part of your life babe.” Noah replied. “Of course you’re going to feel a bit of you is missing.”

“Yeah.” I sighed again.

“You still have Jesse and Jolly, the rest of the guys too. And Alana.” Noah went on, a small smile appeared on my face as I though of my new friends that I met through Noah. “And of course you have me.”

I smiled at that and placed a gentle kiss onto his bare chest.

“You’ll always have me.” He whispered into my hair, placing another kiss on the top of my head.

With that, my eyes re-filled with tears, but this time it as happy tears.

“It’s okay. I’m here.” Noah whispered. “I’m right here.”

My heart burst with love and adoration for the man who held me in his arms.

He held me so securely that I knew he would always have me.

No matter what.

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 11/?

Warnings: 18+, fluff, and suggestiveness

*masterlist*

That fluttering feeling in your stomach was unnerving. It happened whenever Azriel was near you. You’d managed to avoid actively garnering interest in anyone for decades, and you’d forgotten what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. After a couple of days of contemplation, you determined that whatever you felt for Azriel was better than having feelings for Tarquin. You rationalized that having feelings for Azriel wasn’t the end of the world, he was a good friend who was there when you needed him. You were sure anything you felt for Azriel would die off since you were friends, nothing more.

Confusing feelings aside, you were thankful for Azriel for never mentioning your conversation by the river. He saw what you felt was bothering you, so he shut his mouth and gave you some distance. While slightly upsetting, avoiding the topic was a gift, it gave you the chance to pretend you never admitted your fondness for the Illyrian.

At first, Azriel was nowhere to be found and then he was suddenly everywhere. It didn’t help that you were now hyper-aware of him whenever he was in the room. You would be on the training ring with Cassian and Nesta and all of a sudden, Azriel was there needing to speak with Cassian or doing some combat training. It took incredible willpower to ensure your eyes don't wander off to Azriel’s sweaty and muscular form. You’d walk into the kitchen looking for a snack and Azriel would already be there making something for himself. You’d sit with your coffee and try to lose yourself in a book, when you looked up, he was gone but a plate of what he made was placed near you. 

The two of you barely talked, the only words you spoke to each other were greetings and goodbyes but Azriel’s gaze was heavy. You felt this cool caress whenever he spotted you, this always threatened to make your cheeks turn red because you had no idea what Azriel was thinking.

On the other hand, Azriel oscillated from pure joy to deprecating anxiety multiple times a day. When you told him that you liked him, he almost shot up into the air in glee but then he remembered his sobering reality. You still didn’t want a mate and you looked like you were about to hurl after your admission. This was not what Azriel fantasized, he imagined the minute you realize your feelings for him, you would jump into his arms and he’d declare his feelings for you.

In the few weeks, you spent in the Night Court, you had regained your usual weight and your muscles were more toned instead of sinewy. That golden glow had yet to make an appearance but it was miles better from when you first arrived. 

He was giving you space but he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to talk to you and be near you. Nesta told him that you had asked Cassian to train together and Azriel burned in jealousy. There was no reason for him to feel like that but he hated the idea of another male coming into close contact with you, even if it was his mated brother. So every time you trained, Azriel was there too, keeping a close eye and making sure Cassian wasn’t pushing you too far.

You were fighting well for someone who was recently injured, Cassian was so impressed that he didn’t have to hold back. With Feyre and Nesta, he had to be mindful not to go too hard but with you, he was having fun and used you for a proper workout. The two of you were practicing hand-to-hand combat and you were destroying him, raining down punches and kicks in a flurry. Cassian gleamed with sweat and he could barely breathe but that didn’t stop the competitiveness, when you met his eye with a cocky smirk, Cassian launched an attack.  

At first, you were able to defend but Cassian was determined to beat you this time. He was throwing everything at you, and finally, with a disorienting punch, you were thrown off before a hard kick to your chest sent you flying. You land on your back with a thud and it takes a second for you to catch your breath. You see a grinning Cassian approaching you on your peripheral only to see Azriel’s towering form take over your vision. 

He kneels and gingerly helps you sit up. “Are you okay?”

Your head was swimming but you weren’t mad, instead you started laughing. It’s been a while since anyone has knocked you down while sparring. 

You stabilized yourself in his arms. “I’m fine! Cass and I just got away with the training.” Laughter halted when you saw Azriel’s grim face, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

He gave Cassian a withering glare and the usually tough General wished he could disappear into the shadows. 

“What the hel were you thinking, Cas?” said Azriel as he thoroughly looked you over. “From now on, I’ll spar with you.”

Your jaw went slack before gaining control of your body. “Oh– there’s no need. I’m fine with Cassian. He’s the general and I wouldn’t want to impose on your du-”

“It’s fine!” chirped Cassian. He should have expected Azriel to act like this if you ever got hurt. “He’s the spymaster, he’s sneaky and will teach more than I could at this point.”

You looked between Azriel and Cassian with a lifted brow. The General was biting the inside of his cheek hoping you would just say ‘yes’ so he could avoid Azriel’s deadly glare while the shadowsinger’s eyes were practically begging you.

“Okay,” you sorely got up from the floor. Shaking out your limbs, you got into a defensive stance. After eyeing Azriel’s glistening tan chest, you went for the attack.

***

Your first spar with Azriel broke the tension, and everything returned to normal. Neither of you mentioned what happened by the Sidra or the night he spent sleeping next to you and you wanted to keep it that way, it’d be easier to forget about your feelings if you ignored it. Your twisted logic surmised that exposure therapy was what you needed. The ultimate goal was to be around Azriel without feeling those butterflies in your stomach.

Since the two of you were finally interacting normally, the inner circle could breathe a sigh of relief no longer having to deal with a broody Golden Warrior and shadowsinger. Rhysand and the others knew something transpired between you but no one dared to ask what happened. Family dinners were much more pleasant whenever you joined in on the banter. 

Tonight’s dinner was full of complaints, Cassian had to deal with the war camps and he always had stories to tell at the end of the day. Rhysand and Feyre were frustrated with the task of finding Bryaxis, Rhysand, and Azriel’s contacts had no idea where he could be. Remembering your short conversation with the death god, Amren suggested that you could help find Bryaxis. Azriel bristled at the thought of you near the creature again, biting his tongue when you enthusiastically offered your help.

The next few days were relatively uneventful and you were thankful for it, since Amarantha’s wrath you haven’t been able to relax and do nothing. Back in Dawn Court, there was always something for you to do but here, you could breathe. You and those who lived in the House of Wind had adapted into a routine, you had melded seamlessly into their lives; it didn't feel like you’d only been there for a few weeks. 

Every night you ended up in the library with some sort of drink in your hand and a companion who you’d sit and read with until it was late and eyes were fluttering close. Sometimes Nesta, Elain, and Mor would join you but they always went to bed early, leaving you alone with Azriel. At first, you were afraid of spending more time alone with him but you thought of it as good practice to teach your body not to react when he was nearby. You had your designated spot on the loveseat while Azriel stretched out on the couch across from you. The House was rowdy during the day so it was nice to spend time with your friend. Half of the time spent in the library was the two of you having a quiet conversation and the other was spent absorbed in the books.

Nesta had lent you a stack of romance books from her collection, and you were flying through them. You might not want to be in love yourself but you liked reading about fictional people falling in love and having tender and fiery moments. The book in your hands had you slyly looking behind to make sure no one could see the pages. The love interest had wings similar to the Illyrians whose wings were extremely sensitive when touched. Your gaze flickered to the male in front of you, your eyes looking directly at the membranous leather illuminated by the fireplace. Clearing your throat, you flipped a page and tried hard to focus on the story. It was going well until the character's blonde hair began to morph into inky black hair with similar features to Azriel. 

You bit your lip trying hard to think of someone else, but the image had already been branded into your imagination, even thinking about Tarquin didn’t help. The scenario in the novel was getting steamy, you imagined it would be hard to do but it was so outlandish that heat flashed through you at the thought.

No amount of magic was fast enough to cover the scent of your arousal. You looked at Azriel hoping he hadn’t noticed but it was too late. He was already smirking.

“What are you reading?” said Azriel, his voice low. “It must be fascinating.”

You sat there stunned, you’d never heard his voice that deep, and you’d never heard him purr.

It took everything in you not to stutter. “None of your business, shadowsinger.”

His demeanor had changed, his hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as if he was restraining himself. You looked at him curiously and then it hit you, his musky scent of cedar and night. Attempts of deep breaths to collect your thoughts were a bad idea because now you were hypnotized, the musk and woodsy smell of you and Azriel intertwining together. 

“It’s one hundred percent my business if I’m going to sit here for the next hour with you sitting there blushing and smelling like that.“

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

Azriel’s smirk stayed as he sat up and fully faced you eager to hear what you had to say.

“The love interest in the book has wings and he and the main character are attempting to have sex in mid-air. It’s so ridiculous they ended up crashing into a mountain, I'm just glad they did it in an unpopulated area. The only logistical way of that successfully happening is if both people had wings and even then, I’d imagine it would be difficult to do…” 

You cursed yourself as intrusive thoughts of you and Azriel in that compromising position filled your head. You stomped it down and saw an amused smile on his lips, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. 

Azriel clicked his tongue and his eyes bore into yours. “That does sound rather arduous and inconvenient. Couldn’t they wait?”

“I guess not, desire is desire.”

He shook his head, “That wouldn’t do it for me. I’d need a hard surface to lay my lover down.”

The Shadowsinger held his breath, he couldn’t believe he said that but he couldn’t help it.

“Agreed, it’s hard to have some control when you’re up in the air.”

Azriel leaned forward, and he found himself actively holding himself back from reaching for you. Your scent of rich lilacs and morning dew made him feel intoxicated. “What do you know about control?”

Instinct moving you closer, you met his gaze with the same intensity, feeling his cool gaze trace your lips and cheekbones. Gods, you wanted to reach over and take him on that chair. The thought of you straddling and having Azriel beneath you made your breath hitch.

“I know enough that I like control and to be controlled,” you said softly.

You swear a rumble was heard from Azriel’s chest. He wished he could cross over and kiss you but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that.

“How peculiar, I like control too… although I don’t know how to feel about being controlled.”

No longer thinking straight, you grinned wickedly at the handsome man before you. “You should try it sometime, it may be euphoric for you, something you may end up liking.”

The two of you sat in silence, gears turning in your head while you fought internal battles. The air inside the library was thick, hot, and reeking of you and Azriel. Combined with your magic, it was making it hard to breathe. Azriel refused to touch you first, he could smell that you wanted him but you had to be fully onboard, and he knew you weren’t there yet. 

While Azriel restrained himself, you were screaming at yourself for wanting this. You could scent that he wanted you too but you couldn’t make him a fling, he already meant too much.

You broke eye contact first, your arms feeling like lead as you reached for the stupid romance book. The faerie on the cover had feathered wings, their familiarity jolting and reminding you of the unusable ones glamoured on your back. Azriel was still looking at you with blown eyes, the hazel barely peeking through. He could not believe the two of you had admitted those things to each other.

You bit your lip as you slowly gathered your belongings scattered around the library, an air of embarrassment hanging in the air. This interaction was going to put a rift between the two of you and you wanted to avoid that, things were finally feeling normal. 

Without thinking, you turned to him once again. “Azriel,” you said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He blinked, your clear voice pulling him from the heated trance. “I have some tasks to do for Rhys but I’m free in the morning.”

“At sunrise, I’ll meet you on the balcony. You’re going to help me fly.”

Surprise flickered in his features but a genuine smile made its way to his face. “Whatever you wish, little dove”

***

You woke up just before the sun rose, slipping into leggings, a backless long-sleeve, and a jacket. You trudged over to the kitchen where Azriel was waiting for you with a light breakfast. The anxiety of flying had quelled any awkwardness about last night's conversation with Azriel, you were radiating with nervous energy and he noticed. In an attempt to distract you, he told you that he had learned how to fly past the appropriate age, his days in the cellar had stunted his growth in many ways. Talk of his past fully woke you up, heart-wrenching at the thought of little Azriel being deprived of a childhood.

You clung onto his neck, his warmth easing your worries as he flew directly to a discreet spot. He told you this was also where he gave Feyre flying lessons. When he placed you on the ground, you realized that your friends hadn’t seen the horrible scars on your back. 

“Azriel… you haven’t seen my back or wings yet… the skin looks bad and the left wing healed a little strangely.”

He smiles softly, “Look at who you’re talking to, dove. Your scars will never scare me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took off your jacket and slowly turned. It’s only been a few months so the scar was still red and angry. Azriel stepped closer and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“It looks that bad, huh? 

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No. It just makes me think of all you’ve had to endure.” Without thinking, his scarred fingers traced the jagged lines, his warm hands leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Dove, you’re stronger than you think. Let me see your wings.”

He stepped back and then you unglamoured them, hissing at the weight and strain of your wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Azriel tells you to flex them out and bring them in, let the wings get used to moving again. While doing your exercise, Azriel saw what you meant by your left wing looking a little different, some feathers growing crooked but it was barely noticeable. Your white and gold feathers were still as beautiful as ever.

You were struggling since your back hadn’t moved specific muscles in months. Once Azriel was satisfied with your warm up he told you to practice lifting off the ground without any aid from jumping or using your legs. You strained but managed to rise a foot off the ground, gaining confidence, you kept trying and lifted off 5 feet in the air. 

Azriel thinks you need a big push so he brings you to a large landing 10 feet in the air. Never in your life did you think you’d be scared of heights but there you were trembling at the 10-foot drop, the spymaster looking small from your vantage point.

“Lift off and then slowly fly down to the ground. You can do it!”

You looked at him warily. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it made you gasp, it was earnest and you wholeheartedly believed him. Four simple words but in that moment, you knew you could trust him with your life.

Emptying your mind, you lifted off and shakily made your way down to Azriel with the grace of a five-year-old Peregryn child. Azriel let out a cheer the moment your feet touched the ground, his excitement making you smile. 

“Do you think you can do that someplace higher?” he said pointing to a larger cliff nearby. 

Fueled with how well you’ve been doing, you agreed. In no time, you were up top and Azriel was waiting in the bottom. Taking a deep breath, you lifted off and tried hard to fly gracefully. Your wings were flapping hard and about halfway down, a muscle contracted, and nerve pain shot out from your back. You let out a yelp and then began falling, Azriel was quick enough to catch you before swerving into a tree.

He carefully placed you on the ground and your hand immediately went up and glowed, trying to detect what had happened. When you couldn’t find anything wrong other than temporary muscle spasms, you ground your teeth together. Frustration coursed through your body making you burst into tears.

Azriel’s eyes grew wide, he was never good with crying females and now he had no idea what to do with his bawling mate.

“Are you okay?” he asked shakily.

You raised your hands to gesture to yourself and the world. “No, I’m not okay! I’m a fucking failure and everything is going wrong!”

Your outburst took Azriel aback. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I’m the High Lord’s godsdamned second, I should be in Dawn taking care of my court but I’ve made so many mistakes my cousin had to send me here to sort myself out. On top of that, I’m a Peregryn who can’t freaking fly because of some stupid mental block. How pathetic can I get?” 

The tears don’t stop coming and you cover your face, mortified that Azriel was seeing you cry like this. Weeks of built-up frustration had finally found its release, you sobbed until your breaths stuttered.

Azriel couldn’t stand hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. He watched you crumpled on the ground and his heart clenched at the sight. “No...” he whispered as he lowered himself to your level. He took your hand and gently pulled you to sit up. Azriel slung an arm to support your sore back while one hand stroked your cheek. “You are anything but pathetic. You were doing so well and I pushed you too hard today, we shouldn’t have done that last drop. I’m so sorry, dove.”

“Don’t be sorry, Az,” you blubbered out. “I checked and nothing’s wrong with me. I’m sore but it was all in my head.”

You leaned against his warm chest as the words sank in. Azriel’s large hands rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing you into a calm state, your breathing slowly matching his. Cool wisps stroked your feathered wings and your lip twitched, Azriel remembered that Peregryns loved getting their wings stroked.

“This mental block…” you began, “I’m scared of losing my wings. Aside from my sword, my wings are all I have left of my father. It’s so stupid but I hid my wings for fear of losing them. I feel foolish because my Peregryn soldiers aren’t part Fae like me. Like you, they can’t retract their wings and here I am complaining about feeling vulnerable.” 

Azriel continued to smooth your skin, his touch leaving tingles. His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes looking at you with so much intensity you couldn’t understand it.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

He vehemently shook his head. 

“No,” his hand traced the scar on your cheek. “You’ve lost so much and all you do is give. No one blames you for acting like this. Let’s end today’s session and pick it up when I come back from my mission. I told you I'd help you fly again and I would never break a promise.”

You merely nodded and let Azriel hold you close as he flew to the House of Wind. He landed gently on the balcony and to your surprise, you see the inner circle eating their breakfast. You bristled at first, wondering if you should glamour your wings but Azriel’s little smile and comforting hand on the small of your back stopped you. You nodded towards your friends and made your way to a chair. The inner circle did their best not to gape at the sight of your wings or the partially hidden scar on your back. They notice your red blotchy eyes but no one says anything when they see Azriel discreetly shake his head, asking his family not to bring it up right now.

You remain quiet during breakfast, your mood slowly improves with every joke amongst your friends. Once the meal was over, Cassian had managed to successfully rope you into the ridiculous banter, your eyes shining with tears of laughter. 

Nesta was brave enough to bring up your wings, she called them lovely and you drew them out a bit to show more feathers. Cassian who was finally able to freely look at your wings burst out with words that sent everyone into screaming laughter.

“So, whose wingspan is bigger?”

The group had decided the age-old question was finally going to be answered. Amren cackled with glee when the House provided a tape measure on the table. Mor squeals in excitement and one by one, she carefully measured every winged fae’s wingspan. From smallest to largest, it went from Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, you and then Azriel. Upon hearing the results, Azriel’s eyes snapped to his brothers and then to you with a wicked grin. You rolled your eyes because the Peregryn’s must have the same thought about wing size and male bodily appendages.

The lord of bloodshed growled in dissatisfaction, insisting that everyone gets measured again. His pout grew when he realized that Azriel did have a bigger wingspan than him. Cassian was never going to hear the end of it.

He looked over to your white and gold feathers and his frown deepened. “If the Golden Warrior was a male, that’d mean her manhood would be more grand than mine.”

This sent everyone into hysterics, Rhysand was howling in laughter as Feyre clutched your arm, making you double over. Azriel was shaking his head but even he couldn’t help reacting to Cassian’s comment. 

As the merriment died down, Rhys and Azriel looked at their watches, their faces growing serious at the thought of the Shadowsinger’s mission ahead. Azriel disappears into the shadows only to emerge a minute later dressed in full Illyrian leathers, his chest, and legs strapped with weapons. 

Waving you over to the balcony, Azriel towered over you, the playfulness from earlier was long gone. Something in your heart twists and you suddenly feel nervous for Azriel.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that…but Rhsyand will fill you in later.”

You peered inside to look for the High Lord only to find everyone had left, leaving you and Azriel alone. 

Eyeing the glinting hilt of Truthteller, you lift a brow at him. “Will you be okay? You’re armed to the teeth… are you going to need back-up?”

His heart leaps at the thought of you worrying about him. “I’m just being cautious, it’s a quick reconnaissance trip. I’ll see you by lunch tomorrow.”

Your mouth twists, something didn't feel right even though there was no reason to feel like that. Azriel was more than capable of a reconnaissance mission so you smiled up at him and wished him luck. Feeling bold, Azriel grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze before swiftly turning around and taking off from the balcony.

Your fingers tingled and warmth seeped onto your face as you watched his figure grow smaller against the cool blue sky. It was odd but you found yourself looking forward to seeing Azriel safe and sound back at the house. You startle when your thoughts about Azriel are interrupted by an obsidian claw knocking on your mental shield. Leaving a crack open, you let Rhysand’s voice fill your mind.

“Meet me in my office… Thesan and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

a/n: I am so so sorry for the long wait. life has been crazy and I hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading xoxo

taglist: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit, @fightmedraco, @annamariereads16, @gorlillaglue25

[mononijikayu]

marutsuke — gojo satoru.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know." Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?" "I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

WARNING/S: post-hidden inventory (2006-onwards), domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 5.3k words.

NOTE: i wrote this a long long while ago and to celebrate jjk ending, i would like to give this as a humble offering. i've been a fan of jjk since 2019, when my friend introduced it to me. jjk means the world to me. it was there for me as much as bts was in my harsh and painful years. i am most grateful to share and continue to share the joy of it here in my little corner of the world. thank you guys for sharing the love of jjk with me. you guys are amazing. i love you guys so much. let's continue to be fans together for a long time!!! also the song is from given. its a lovely song <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HATED THIS FEELING, YOU HATED REPETITION LIKE THIS. You stood in the dimly lit hallway, fists clenched, your eyes burning with fury as you learned what had happened to the first years. The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Haibara—kind, hopeful Haibara—was dead. Nanami barely made it back. You trembled with rage, unable to process the incompetence that had led to this.

It was just like this when it was Namie.

Your mind flashed back to the past, to the same helplessness, the same sickening weight that had crushed your chest when Namie, your dear friend, had been sent out on a mission with faulty intelligence. They hadn’t even gotten her body back. You remembered the emptiness, the cold fury that took root inside you ever since.

And then there was Amanai Riko. Another loss, another innocent life extinguished because of their arrogance, their reckless disregard for the lives they swore to protect. Your nails bit into your palms as you fought back the wave of grief and anger.

And now... now Haibara.

Another young life, snuffed out before it could even truly begin. Your breath came in short, ragged bursts as the memories collided with the present, your fury building to a boiling point. You had warned them. You had fought, had demanded better, and yet nothing had changed.

"How many more?" you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling with fury. "How many more have to die before they open their eyes?"

"They had faulty intelligence," you spat, your voice laced with venom. "Faulty intelligence, and they sent them in blind. Blind!"

Your words echoed down the empty corridor, but it wasn’t enough to release the fury simmering inside you. You stormed forward, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your anger, the hallway dim and suffocating as you advanced. The rage that coursed through your veins was more than just anger—it was righteous fury, the kind that demanded answers, demanded justice for those who had fallen.

You didn’t care about decorum or procedure. Not now. Not when another life had been so carelessly thrown away.

The sight of the mission manager at the end of the hall, sitting casually at his desk, only fueled the fire inside you. He looked up, his expression one of mild surprise as you approached—indifferent, as if the death of a student was nothing more than an inconvenience, a casualty of duty.

Indifference. That look—the one that dismissed Haibara as just another statistic, another name on a growing list of losses. It ignited something in you that was barely contained.

"You!" you hissed, your voice trembling with the intensity of your rage. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension as you marched up to the manager’s desk, eyes blazing. "You sent them in blind! Faulty intelligence, and you signed off on it like it didn’t matter! Haibara is dead because of you!"

The manager blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but his calm exterior didn’t waver. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded calmly in his lap, as if he was used to this—used to the accusations, used to the aftermath. He probably expected you to eventually calm down, to accept that this was just the way things were.

But you weren’t going to calm down. Not this time.

“You think this is acceptable?" you seethed, leaning over his desk. "You think sending kids in with faulty information is just part of the job? You didn’t care about what would happen to them—you cared about following protocol, making sure you checked off the boxes so you could wipe your hands clean when it went wrong."

The manager gave a slight sigh, adjusting his glasses as if the whole situation was an inconvenience. "These missions come with risks, you know that. It’s unfortunate, but we—"

"Unfortunate?" your voice rose, fury spilling over. "You think this is just 'unfortunate'? Haibara’s dead because of your incompetence, and all you can say is that it’s unfortunate?"

The manager’s lips thinned, his calm demeanor wavering for just a moment. "We did the best we could with the information we had. It’s not always perfect—"

You slammed your hands down on the desk, silencing him immediately. Your face was inches from his now, your voice low and lethal. "No. You didn’t do the best you could. You cut corners, and you sent them in knowing it wasn’t safe. You sat behind this desk while they went out there, while they—" Your voice caught for a moment, thinking of Haibara, of Namie, of Riko. "You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone because of your arrogance."

The manager didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.

Your fists clenched again, your whole body trembling with the effort to contain your rage. You wanted to scream, to tear this entire building apart, but all you could do was stare at the man who had signed Haibara’s death warrant with his negligence. The worst part was you knew it would happen again. As long as people like him kept making decisions, more lives would be lost.

“That’s enough.” That familiar voice. You stopped.

“You piece of shit!” you snarled, your energy crackling dangerously. You lunged, but before you could strike, Yaga intervened, gripping your arms to hold you back.

You whipped around, your rage now directed at Yaga. “You! I warned you. I fucking warned you! But you listened to those old farts, didn’t you? You think it’s okay to send them in, even blindly.” Your voice cracked with fury, your eyes burning into Yaga’s. “And now, you’re stuck having to explain to Haibara’s parents why their son isn’t alive! That blood is on your hands!”

Yaga’s grip remained firm, but his expression darkened as you pressed on.

“My father would be ashamed of you,” you said, your voice low, bitter. “You’ve become exactly what he stood against.”

Yaga’s eyes hardened at your words, but he didn’t let go. He knew your anger wasn’t just at him—it was at the system, at the higher-ups, at the entire broken system that cost Haibara his life. But your words cut deep. Mentioning your father, a man Yaga once respected, felt like a blade twisted into his gut.

"Genmei," Yaga said, his voice steady but tense, "I didn't want this. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t feel the weight of it? I never wanted to send them in like that."

"Then why did you?" you snapped, stepping closer, your face inches from his, rage seething in every word. "You could’ve stopped it. You had the authority! Instead, you caved to those senile cowards who sit behind desks, making decisions they’ll never face the consequences of."

Yaga's jaw clenched, his voice growing colder. "You think I had a choice? You think I didn’t fight back? The orders came from the top, Genmei! From people I can’t defy."

You shook your head, trembling with disbelief. "So that’s it? You just roll over and let it happen? You tell them it’s fine to send kids like Haibara to their deaths? You and those spineless managers let them go out there—for nothing."

Yaga's grip on your arms tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "I know you’re angry. I know this isn’t fair. But it wasn’t blind. They were prepared."

“Prepared?!” Your laughter was bitter and sharp. “You call this prepared? Haibara is dead! Nanami is broken. And now you have to look those parents in the eye and tell them their son is never coming home."

Yaga’s silence spoke louder than anything. The weight of what you said settled in, his posture stiffening with the responsibility he bore. He hadn’t spoken to Haibara’s parents yet, but he would have to. And the thought of it, the unbearable weight of it, gnawed at him.

"Every single student is my responsibility, you know that." Yaga finally said, his voice quieter now, though no less strained. "I carry that burden every day. You think I don’t feel it? That it doesn’t tear me apart? But I don’t have the luxury of rage. I have to keep moving, keep fighting—for the ones who are still here."

Your hands fell to your sides, anger simmering down to a bitter ache. You looked at Yaga, your voice softer but no less furious. "They trusted you. We trusted you. And now we’re left with nothing but grief. Don’t you dare try to justify this."

Yaga looked away, his jaw clenched. "I’m not trying to justify it. There’s no justification for it. But you think I haven’t warned them, too? We both know how they operate. But my hands—"

"Don’t tell me about your hands being tied." you interrupted, your voice sharp. "You had more than just orders. You had a choice. And Haibara Yu’s blood is on all of us for not stopping it. And I'm sure....too sure. That there will be many more. All because you can't fight against those old farts."

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. Yaga’s grip on your arms loosened, his expression still hardened by guilt and responsibility. He knew it too well, he knew that it was also his fault. And perhaps, in truth, you didn't blame him that much. You knew there was nothing a teacher can do against the whole of Jujutsu society. But you can't help but be angry. Just like at your father's funeral. And that too, Yaga blames himself.

“I’m going to make them pay for this.” you said in a low, deadly voice, your anger no longer explosive but cold and resolute. “The ones responsible, the ones who allowed this to happen—they’ll know exactly what they’ve one.”

Yaga met your eyes, his voice quiet but firm. "Don’t let your anger consume you. Your father would say the same thing. This world is already full of enough darkness."

Your expression didn’t change, unfazed. "Maybe it needs a little more darkness before it can see the light. My father also knew about that."

YOU WANTED TO HAVE A SMOKE. But you were sure that the sprinklers would alert people. So you went against it. You stormed out of the manager’s office, your fury barely contained as you made your way down the empty corridor.

The cold, sterile walls felt suffocating, your mind clouded with the weight of it all—Haibara’s death, Nanami’s devastation, the recklessness of the higher-ups. You needed to see him, to confront the harsh reality of what their negligence had wrought.

The morgue was dimly lit, its stillness heavy with the presence of death. You moved quietly, but your footsteps faltered as you approached. Standing just outside, you heard voices—low, tense. You stopped.

"Why not let Gojo take care of everything?" a bitter voice sneered. It was Nanami Kento.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized that tone. Nanami’s words were sharp, laced with exhaustion and frustration, and just as the retort began to form on your lips, another voice cut through—calm, but strained.

"Nanami, that’s enough," Geto Suguru’s voice was tired, a weariness that weighed down each syllable. "This isn’t about Satoru. Don’t take your anger out on him just because you feel helpless. We all do."

Helpless.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body froze as Nanami’s bitter words echoed in your ears, triggering a flood of memories you had buried deep. You could still see the way Kaiko had looked at you after Namie’s death, the sharp, accusatory words that came spilling out, venomous and cruel.

"Why not let Genmei take care of everything, huh? She’s always so sure of herself, isn’t she?" Kamo Kaiko had sneered, the pain of loss warping into something uglier, something that wanted to hurt others. The same helplessness Nanami was drowning in now.

You had seen the look in Kaiko’s eyes—the same bitterness, the same exhaustion, the same desperation to place the blame somewhere, anywhere, other than the black void of grief you were all struggling to survive. And you had tried to calm Kaiko down, tried to reason with her, but the pain had been too raw, too fresh. It had escalated. Words had become fists, and by the time it was over, you were both broken in different ways. You never spoke again after that fight.

Now, hearing Nanami’s voice, the echoes of Kaiko’s bitterness in every word, your heart clenched. You couldn’t let this spiral the same way.

You stepped forward, your presence quiet but commanding. The shadows shifted as you moved, your eyes falling on Nanami, who stood rigid, his face a mask of exhaustion and grief. Geto Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his own weariness mirrored in his posture. He looked over Haibara’s body, as though he was in a trance. He was shell–shocked, you think.

"That’s enough." you said, your voice calm but firm, the weight of your past mixing with the present. You couldn’t watch this play out the same way it had before. "This isn’t about blame. None of this is about whose responsibility it is to fix things."

Nanami flinched slightly at the sound of your voice, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. But you knew what he was feeling because you had been there. You had stood in his shoes, grappling with the same rage, the same helplessness, when you lost Namie.

"It’s not Gojo–kun’s fault, you know that." you continued, stepping closer, your voice softer now. "And it’s not yours. Haibara’s death wasn’t something you could have prevented. Not under these circumstances."

Nanami's fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body radiating outwards. "I could have, senpai." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have."

"No." you said firmly, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This wasn’t on you. Don’t let the guilt consume you, Nanami. I’ve seen it before, and I know where it leads."

The memories of Kaiko haunted you, the way grief had hollowed her out, leaving her with nothing but resentment and bitterness. You couldn’t let that happen to Nanami. Not again. This doesn’t have to continue. No one else has to suffer.

"Listen to Geto–kun, okay?" you added, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "We all feel helpless. But turning against each other won’t bring Haibara back."

Nanami’s shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his body giving way to something closer to defeat. He didn’t respond, but you knew your words had reached him. Turning away from them, you took a breath and steel yourself. You still had one last thing to do, no matter how much it hurt.

You had to say goodbye to Haibara.

You walked out of the room, the heaviness of the conversation weighing on your shoulders. You pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, your emotions a turbulent storm beneath the surface. Your eyes immediately caught sight of Satoru, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed.

You knew, just by the way he stood, that he had heard everything. There was no need for words. His expression wasn’t the usual carefree mask he wore—it was more serious, though his eyes were still bright behind his dark shades, silently watching you.

You sighed, your frustration and exhaustion bubbling up. Without a word, you stepped closer to him and gently placed your hands over his ears, your palms lightly cupping the sides of his head. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and his eyes widened, blinking in surprise. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand what you were doing.

Don’t listen, you mouthed, your lips forming the words slowly and deliberately, knowing he would understand.

For a moment, Satoru just stared at you, his gaze flickering between confusion and something softer, almost curious. His lips pressed into a flat line, and after a heartbeat of silence, he nodded, an unspoken agreement passing between you.

He wasn’t going to argue. Not this time.

You let your hands fall from his ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead of you, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

You let your hands fall from Satoru's ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

The two of you wandered outside in silence, the weight of recent events hanging heavily between you. The cold night air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the emotions you both carried. You led the way toward the vending machines just outside the building, the quiet hum of them the only sound in the stillness.

You didn’t need to look at Satoru to know he was thinking about everything that had happened. It was rare for him to be this quiet, this subdued. You pressed the buttons on the machine without a word, watching the drinks tumble down with a soft thud. You handed one to him, the cold condensation clinging to your fingers as you took your own.

Satoru cracked open the can, the fizz breaking the silence between you. You took a slow sip of your drink before finally speaking.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” you said quietly, your voice steady but carrying the weight of someone who had seen this all before. "You can’t blame yourself for what happened."

Satoru didn’t respond right away. He took a long drink, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the usual brightness in his eyes dimmed by something heavier, more complex. He leaned against the vending machine, one hand loosely holding the can, the other shoved in his pocket. His shades were off now, dangling from his collar.

“I think it is, Genmei–senpai.” he finally said, his voice low, almost resigned. His gaze drifted down to the ground. “If I were just a little stronger, a little faster... if I had trained them better, maybe… maybe they wouldn’t be dead.”

Your chest tightened. You had heard these words before, a thousand times in different voices. From yourself, from others who had lost people they cared about. It was the familiar cycle of grief and guilt. Gojo Satoru doesn’t easily fuss over his feelings. This was the first time truly, you think, that he’d willingly told you what he felt. Without you having to ask. In a way, you think that has reminded you of yourself, even for a little bit.

"You can't control everything, Gojo–kun." you replied softly, stepping beside him. "Not even you. It wasn’t your decision to send them on that mission. You weren’t the one who messed up the intel. And you’re not the one who could have stopped it from going wrong."

He clenched his jaw, clearly wrestling with the weight of his own thoughts. Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one who always acted like nothing could touch him—was grappling with the very human feeling of failure. It was a rare sight, one that he kept hidden behind his usual bravado. But here, in the quiet, there was no mask to hide behind.

"Being strong doesn’t mean being able to protect everyone. That’s impossible." you added, your voice quiet but firm. "Trust me, I know. We all do."

Satoru stared at his drink, the carbonation slowly rising to the surface. He let out a long breath, his fingers tightening around the can as if holding on to something he couldn’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know if I can ever believe that, you know?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I’m not strong enough to protect them, then what’s the point of being the strongest?"

You didn’t answer right away. You let his words hang in the air, knowing that there was no simple reply that could ease his burden. The truth was, you understood. You had felt the same way when your precious Namie died, when Amanai Riko  was killed. The strength to protect felt meaningless when it failed you.

But you also knew that blaming yourself for every loss would only eat away at you, piece by piece. And you knew better than to wallow in it all. You wouldn’t be able to get up from your bed if it's all that consumes you. You didn’t want your dreams. You wanted to be awake. In your dreams, it was regret. In your reality, it was moving forward. And you’d choose a thousand cigarettes then see Namie’s eyes look at you like that again. You’d choose days awake rather than seeing Kaiko take her last breaths right in front of you again.

"The point, Gojo–kun," you finally said, your voice softer now, "is that you’re human. No matter how strong you are, no matter what kind of power you have, you’re still human, Gojo–kun. And that means sometimes... you’ll fail. It doesn’t make you any less strong. It just makes you... you."

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his bright cerulean eyes—an acknowledgment, maybe. He didn’t argue, didn’t dismiss your words like he normally would. Instead, he just took another sip of his drink and nodded slightly.

“Maybe……” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

You stood there in the quiet, the weight of your conversation lingering in the cold night air. For once, there were no easy answers, no quick fixes. Just two people, sharing a drink, carrying the same burden of loss.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at the night sky. The stars were faint tonight, dimmed by the city lights, much like how everything felt dulled in the aftermath of grief. You took another sip from your drink, letting the cool liquid ground you in the present, away from the spiraling thoughts of what could have been.

After a long silence, you spoke again, your tone quieter, almost contemplative. "You know, you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself, Gojo–kun."

He glanced at you, but didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still clouded with that familiar weight.

"I know you feel like it’s all on you, Gojo–kun." you continued, turning your gaze to him. "Like you're responsible for every life, every outcome. But you're not. And it’s okay to feel... this way. To feel like you’ve failed. But that doesn’t mean you have."

Satoru stared at the ground, the quiet stretching on for a few heartbeats. Then, without looking at you, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You say that like you don’t carry it, too.”

Your grip on the can tightened slightly. You felt the truth of his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. You did carry it—always had. The weight of those you couldn’t save, the memories of missions gone wrong, the faces of the dead. You carried them all, and sometimes it felt like too much. But that wasn’t something you would admit to easily.

"You’re right. Your senpai’s a hypocrite." you said after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. A weary smile on your lips. "I do, don’t I? But I’m learning how to let some of it go. To not let it destroy me…..I have to learn, as you do.”

Satoru finally looked at you, his gaze searching, as if he was trying to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp. There was a vulnerability in his expression, one that he rarely let show. You know that you knew the answer. And so does he. But it was easy to ignore, when you’re given the world to carry.

"How?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

You looked away, your eyes drifting back up to the sky. "By realizing that it’s not all on me. That I’m not the only one who’s hurting. And by letting people in, even when I don’t want to. It’s not easy, and I’m still figuring it out... but I’m trying."

Satoru was silent, processing your words. You knew how hard it was for him to let people in, to show any weakness. He had built walls so high that even those closest to him struggled to see through them. But here, in this quiet moment, you could feel those walls cracking, if only just a little.

“I guess I’ll have to try that sometime.” he muttered, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know."

Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?"

"I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. It was the kind of quiet that settled between people who understood each other, who didn’t need to fill the space with empty words.

After a while, Gojo Satoru straightened up, his usual mask of nonchalance slipping back into place. But something had changed, even if just a little. He glanced at you, a glimmer of his old self returning to his eyes.

"Alright." he said, pushing off from the vending machine. "I’ll try not to carry everything on my back... but don’t expect me to go soft, okay? Can’t have everyone thinking I’m losing my touch."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Gojo–kun."

He chuckled, tossing his empty can into the recycling bin with a casual flick of his wrist. “Good. Now, how about we get out of here? There’s only so much doom and gloom a guy can take. I wanna go and eat some burgers! Oh, oh and have a milkshake. Come on Gen-senpai! Don't be such a slow poke!”

You watched as he started walking away, his usual swagger returning to his step. Despite everything, despite the grief and the guilt, he was still Satoru Gojo. And that, in its own way, was comforting. You lingered for a moment, finishing off your drink before following him. The weight of the night hadn’t disappeared, but somehow, it felt a little easier to bear now.

epilogue

The afternoon sun bathed the park in a warm, golden glow, casting everything in a soft light that made the moment feel almost timeless. It was a day without expectations or duties—a rare occasion for you and Satoru, a time when neither of you needed to be the strongest sorcerers alive. Instead, you were just yourselves, surrounded by the warmth of your little family.

You sat on a bench under the shade of a sprawling tree, the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. From your seat, you watched Tsumiki and Megumi, their carefree laughter ringing out as they chased each other across the grass.

Fushiguro Megumi’s small smile hinted at how much he enjoyed these quiet moments with his sister, even though he pretended to let her win. His protectiveness over Tsumiki was subtle but undeniable, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched their innocent game unfold.

Beside you, Satoru was sprawled out lazily on the bench, his sunglasses resting atop his head, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Satoshi, your energetic bundle of joy, was clinging to his father’s arm, trying to climb him like he was a human jungle gym. The sight of Satoru—so relaxed and utterly at ease—was a rare one, a moment where he let down his guard completely.

“Baby!” Satoru said, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin. “I think our son’s trying to take me down. Think he’s got the makings of a future jujutsu sorcerer?”

You chuckled, brushing a few strands of Satoshi’s hair out of his eyes. “Maybe he’s just training to be strong like you, don’t you think?” you teased, giving Satoru a playful look. “You’ll have to watch out—he might surpass you one day.”

Satoru sat up dramatically, hoisting Satoshi into his lap. “Surpass me? Oh no, not on my watch!” He declared, tickling your son until Satoshi was giggling uncontrollably. “Satoshi, my little dawn, promise me you won’t steal my title as the strongest!”

Gojo Satoshi, between fits of laughter, batted at his father’s chest. “Papa! No tickle!”

The sound of your son’s pure joy, Satoru’s playful antics, and the peace of this moment filled your heart. For once, there was no looming threat, no mission pulling you away. It was just the simple beauty of a family enjoying a sunny day.

Megumi, a little winded from chasing his sister, wandered over with his usual stoic expression, though you could see the faintest trace of a smile. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “Are you done showing off?”

Megumi shrugged, his tone as nonchalant as ever. “I wasn’t showing off. Tsumiki just needed to win.”

Satoru reached out and ruffled Megumi’s hair affectionately. “Such a gentleman. You’re really going soft on your sister, huh?”

Though Megumi swatted Satoru’s hand away, his eyes softened. “......She deserves it” he mumbled, trying to keep his fondness for Tsumiki hidden.

Tsumiki, noticing the conversation, ran over, her cheeks flushed from the chase. She flopped down onto the grass beside Megumi, leaning against him with a contented sigh. The two siblings sat close together, exchanging quiet smiles. You could see how much they meant to each other—the bond that had formed between them was one of the most precious things in your life.

Satoru stretched out his legs, balancing Satoshi on his knee. “You know, I think this is nice.” he said, his tone suddenly thoughtful. “We should do this more often.”

You turned to look at him, curious. “Do what? Actually relax?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah. I like this better—just us. Just our little family, you know? No titles, no missions. Just being.”

There was something so genuine in the way he said it. You leaned into him slightly, reaching for his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours. “I like this too, you know?” you said softly, squeezing his hand.

He smiles back at you with the most beautiful, warm gaze. He squeezes your hand back. “I know.”

Megumi and Tsumiki sat quietly, watching your interaction with curiosity but not interrupting. You could tell they were starting to understand the unspoken bond you and Satoru shared—the love that transcended the roles you played in the world.

Satoru let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench, tugging you closer. Satoshi, who had grown tired from all the excitement, settled comfortably in his father’s lap, his small hands gripping Satoru’s shirt. The park, bathed in the soft afternoon light, seemed to wrap you all in a blanket of calm.

“If you weren’t around to keep me sane…..” Satoru mused, glancing over at you. “I might’ve forgotten what a day off even feels like.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure you’d figure it out. You’ve always been good at pretending the world’s problems don’t exist.”

Satoru grinned, though there was a softness to his voice. “Maybe. But this…” He looked down at Satoshi, then over at Megumi and Tsumiki, who were now engrossed in their own conversation. “This is real. This is what matters.”

His words struck a chord in you. For so long, your lives had revolved around the constant threat of danger, the weight of responsibility. But here, at this moment, it was just the four of you—your makeshift family—enjoying a quiet afternoon in the park.

Leaning into Satoru’s warmth, you whispered, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about.”

The park’s hum continued around you: the distant laughter of children, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of birds. But in your little bubble, time seemed to slow down. For a moment, there was no past, no future—just the present, where everything felt exactly as it should.

You rested your head on Satoru’s shoulder, Satoshi nestled between you both, and Megumi and Tsumiki chatting softly beside you. In this quiet, peaceful moment, you realized that despite the chaos of your lives, these simple, precious moments made all the struggles worth it.

And for now, that was more than enough.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Whipped - Luke Skywalker X GN Reader

Title: Whipped

Luke Skywalker X GN Reader (Han X Leia included)

Additional Characters: Han, Leia, Chewie, R2D2, C3PO (Mentioned), Yoda (Mentioned), Rebel Alliance people (Mentioned), and TIE Fighters (Mentioned)

Requested by @micheleamidalajedi

WC: 2,325

Warnings: Luke is smitten, teasing, taunting, anxiety, nervousness, wingman Han, wingwoman Leia, baby angst, bets, joke fighitng mentioned, fighting mentioned, blasters mentioned, killing so of briefly mentioned, set sometime during The Empire Strikes Back, confession, friends to lovers, cute name-calling (on Leia's part), and fluff

Luke sighed, his hand resting on his chin as his half-lidded daydreaming eyes gazed at you from afar. You were brushing your hair, talking to Chewie and Leia about something, your occasional laugh echoing throughout the base. The sound of your voice was enough to make him smile in an idyllic way and he wished for nothing more than to hear that melodic voice forever. He didn't know if this was a crush or not but Luke couldn't help it; he had been smitten ever since your first encounter a while ago. He thought you were beautiful, the most beautiful person he'd ever encountered. He felt a pang of sadness whenever he thought about the fact that he couldn't have you all to himself, and so often he would find himself fantasizing about what could happen between the two of you. And every time, he would melt into a puddle of goo.

You had taken a liking to Luke, thinking he was quite adorable. It wasn't long before you found yourself gravitating towards him even though you couldn’t go a couple sentences before freezing up. You didn't think you'd be so shy, usually, you were good at conversation with others, but with Luke... You stumbled over your words. Every time you opened your mouth to speak to him, you found yourself unable to utter a single word. It was quite strange because he seemed so nice, kind, and funny. You didn't understand how anyone would be able to not resist such an angelic-looking face, yet here you were doing just that, falling hopelessly in love with him.

Leia saw right through you, she saw the way you looked at Luke, almost longingly. "What are you waiting for?" She teased when she noticed your fidgety state. "Go talk to him." She encouraged, trying to contain her own happiness over the fact that you had a crush on the young man. "He has been staring at you for days now." She pointed out. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he liked you too."

"He doesn't." Your cheeks burned at the accusation. "He couldn't possibly." You muttered sadly, shaking your head. You had only known the boy for a few months, after all. You weren't sure he liked you back. But there was a small part of you, deep down, that hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, he did. That hope was the only thing keeping you going as you continued to brush your hair and occasionally glance up to gaze dreamily at Luke. You loved this boy already. You were hopelessly in love with him and you wanted nothing more than to tell him.

Looking up, you watched as Luke's eyes widened before he quickly looked away, turning to face Han instead with his hidden blushing face, making you second-guess. You chuckled at the sight of him getting flustered either way, your heart swelling with joy. His attention warmed your heart more than you could ever express to anyone else. You smiled fondly before you returned to your brushing, before placing down your brush and turning back to Leia and Chewie. They gave you a knowing look, a silent message for you to just do it already. But you stayed sitting, your nerves getting the best of you.

Han smirked as he watched Luke look away from you with a blushing face after he got caught, his lips curling upwards, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I think they like you, kid," Han spoke up, his tone amused. "They're just too shy to say anything."

The blush on Luke's face darkened at the statement. "Really? It doesn't seem like it." He muttered. "It seems like it's just..." He trailed off again, unsure what he wanted to say. "Like they don't really want me around them. Like I'm annoying them."

Han let out a bursting laugh, surprising Luke as he stared at Han with furrowed brows, "Luke, buddy, as I said... They are just shy. You need to make the first move if you truly care about them." He paused, "Besides, it isn't their fault you're too blind to see that they like you."

Luke pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes slightly, "How do you even know about all this? How can you be so sure?"

Han smirked lightly, shrugging as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, "Oh, you know... I know when someone likes me." He answered, his eye glancing over to Leia briefly. "It's a talent to know when there's romantic tension in the air."

Luke gave Han a look, "Uh-huh." He said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously, "And what makes you think there is romance?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes. "Maybe they think of me as a friend and are still just shy." He concluded.

"That." Han waved his pointer finger in the air, and Luke's eyes followed confused, "Do you see it?"

"See what?"

Han sighed, "The love in the air."

Luke groaned and got up, rolling his eyes, "I'm done with you..."

"Hey! Luke! Don't run from love!" Han called out to Luke as he quickly walked away, embarrassed.

You, Chewie, and Leia walked over to Han, confused. "What's up with Luke?" You asked as Leia and Han gave each other a brief glance before both shrugging.

"It's probably nothing," Han replied. "He's being dramatic again."

"You should go check on him," Leia suggested to you. "You always know how to cheer everyone up."

You bit your lip, "Okay..." You mumbled before walking away in search of Luke, gaining the confidence you needed. 

"Who do you think will confess first?" Han asked, crossing his arms, watching as you left the room. "My credits are on Y/N."

Leia mimicked Han's stance, crossing his own arms, "Sppf, oh no, my credits are on Luke."

Han smirked, glancing down at Leia, "Well, if I win, I get to have a drink with you."

Leia rolled her eyes, "And if I win, Chewie and I will braid your hair."

Han furrowed his eyebrows, "My hair's too short to braid, princess."

"That's what you think," Leia smirked.

~~~

You wandered over to find Luke in the cockpit, he was sitting in the corner of the room, on the corner booth; just staring off into the distance as the ship hummed deeply. "Are you okay?" You asked as you sat next to him, causing him to jump in surprise. "Sorry," you apologized with a chuckle, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Luke shook his head, smiling softly at you, "No, it's alright." He responded. "Is everything alright?" He inquired.

You gave him a small smile, "You didn't answer my question first." Your voice grew serious, "Are you alright?" Your tone was soft and you stared up at Luke with concern, swallowing hard as you pushed your nerve down.

Luke took a moment to respond, before pursing his lips and nodding, "Yeah, I'm okay." He then turned to you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

You nodded your head as you averted your gaze from his, "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is alright."

"Good..." Luke hesitated before continuing, "So, what were you, Chewie, and Leia talking about?"

You shrugged, "Nothing much, just asking Chewie about Kashyyyk." You muttered before taking a glance at the young man before you, "What about you and Han? What were you two talking about?"

Luke quickly glanced away from you, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out an awkward laugh, "Nothing special. Just Han messing around with me."

"Do you want me to talk to Leia about him? You know she'd kick his butt if anyone asked." You offered and Luke chuckled lightly.

"Could you? That'd be great." He joked as the two of you laughed together for a moment, before falling into a nerve-racking silence. 

You glanced nervously at Luke, as he gazed at you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're awfully quiet today." He commented as you tilted your head to the side. 

You frowned, "Am I?" 

He nodded his head, "Yeah, but I... I mean you're quiet most of the day... But, are you really okay?" Luke asked worriedly, and you let out a little giggle.

"Yeah, I am okay, Luke. Don't worry." You sighed, your hands fiddling in your lap, "You worry too much."

"I'm not that bad." He pouted.

"You're worse than me," You corrected as you playfully nudged him in the arm. "But I'm okay, really. I'm sorry that I've been acting weird lately."

Luke shook his head, noticing your fidgeting hands and taking one of your hands in his. "No, no, I get it. You don't have to apologize." Your fingers tightened around Luke's hand in response. "You know... I... I really admire you. I admire you so much, Y/N. You're strong, smart, beautiful... A wonderful person." You looked away from him, feeling your cheeks flush. 

"Thank you, Luke. That means a lot. And... You're all those things and more too." You bit your lip nervously, looking back up at him, "I admire you too. So much."

"Y/N, listen-" He began, but something hit the ship, cutting him off.

Han ran into the cockpit with Chewie, landing in their seat to get out of autopilot before flying around; trying not to get hit by any more blasts.

"Kid, I need you at the blaster!" Luke stood quickly and ran to the blaster, leaving you at the booth.

"Can you get away from them?" Leia asked, stumbling over to hold tight to Han's seat.

"You know I can, your Highness, would you kindly sit down?" Han asked through gritted teeth as he turned the wheel, maneuvering past another blast.

"How long until we get to Hoth?" You asked, and Chewie belted, and you sighed. It was going to be a long and bumpy ride.

~~~

It had taken a while, but Luke was able to shoot the TIE Fighters, and soon after that, you went into hyperspace; entering Hoth's atmosphere. Time was moving so fast, it felt like right as you landed Luke was going off to find some Jedi Master. You hardly had any time to really spend time with him. He could hardly talk to you, having to get ready to go along with going to mission debriefs. You spent most of your time on the sidelines, watching Luke rushing around, and Chewie working on the Falcon as Han did... Whatever he was doing, as Leia spoke with other Rebel leaders, and R2 and 3PO bickering in the corner.

As Luke rushed by, wearing his orange suit, carrying his helmet in his arms, you rushed over. The large metal claw grabbed R2 and placed him in the back seat of the X-Wing, R2 whistling and beeping in annoyance. Leia and Han peeked out behind a hall, watching as you said your goodbyes to Luke before he flew off to Dagobah. They watched as Luke pulled you into a long hug, holding onto you for just a little bit longer than necessary; you even seemed like you never wanted to let go. And you didn't.

"Do you have to go?" You asked softly, digging your face into Luke's neck as he held his arms tightly around your waist.

"Yeah," He muttered, "I do."

"Can't I come with you?" You asked, practically begging as Luke chuckled gently, pulling back. 

"My ship won't have enough room. It'll only hold R2 and I." He spoke, and you glanced up at R2D2 as he whistled, making you sigh. 

You pouted lightly as you stared into his deep blue eyes, "You'll be safe, won't you?"

"Of course, I will." He smiled softly down at you, reaching forward with one hand and stroking through your hair soothingly, "Besides, I'll get to see you again soon, okay?" You nodded slowly, before stepping back to give him space. 

Luke bit his lip briefly, as he stared at you, before turning around to head up to the ladder. Pausing halfway, Luke quickly turned around and rushed over, taking you into his arms, and kissing you deeply. Surprised, you slowly melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pressed his body against yours, kissing you hard and passionately. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and lifting you slightly off the ground. Pulling away, he buried his head into your neck, gripping you as he breathed heavily.

When he pulled back, you smiled softly at him before pecking his lips once more. "Be careful." You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He nodded his head, "I will." He promised, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away from you completely and climbing up the ladder. Luke glanced at you once more before slipping on his helmet and closing the X-Wing hatch closed. You sighed, walking backward slowly, giving room for the Wing to lift off. Han and Leia stood beside you, the three of you waving as Luke flew off. You let out a sigh, and Leia rubbed your shoulder.

"He'll be fine." She assured you.

You nodded your head, letting out a sigh, "I hope so..." You trailed off. "I know so."

Leia squeezed your shoulders comfortingly before she turned to Han, "I win, fuzzball."

Han's jaw dropped in offense, "Fuzzball!? Who are you callin' Fuzzball!?" He asked indignantly as the two of them walked off, leaving you to stand alone in the center of the hangar.

You let out a chuckle before running your fingers through your hair, sighing contently, staring off into the distance as you thought about Luke. Your mind drifted back to when he kissed you, how his hands felt so soft against your skin, how his lips felt so warm against yours, how perfect his kiss tasted, how amazing he felt against you; everything. He made you feel like nothing else mattered in the entire universe, and you loved every minute of it.